


Mouthful of...

by 13Kat13



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Daddy Kink, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Lots of Cliches, M/M, Smut, a shameless amount, daddybek, older yuri, otayuri - Freeform, yes you heard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-09-27 12:35:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 43,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10021025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/13Kat13/pseuds/13Kat13
Summary: A collection of Otayuri one shots. Aged up Yuri in all of them.A shameless amount of fluff, smut, and romantic cliches. Quite a few first times, a couple of established thrown in there too, one daddy kink because we're all sinners here, children. A LOT of Yuri getting his hair played with by Otabek because you and I both know it's the best and he's an actual cat.





	1. Mouthful of Waiting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IF YOU JUST WANT TO DIP IN AND OUT OF THIS THEN MY FAVS ARE:
> 
> Mouthful of Fairy Lights - Christmas, fluff, and more fluff. So fluffy. Fluff Central, population two.
> 
> Mouthful of Fever - Yuri is sick and semi delusional :D :D :D
> 
> Mouthful of Morning & Mouthful of Falling - Written in a style that is more natural to me, perhaps not as common in fan fiction though... I think Mouthful of Falling is the best of the bunch.
> 
> \-----
> 
> As for this chapter it's just fluffy, cliche trash, fight me *middle fingers up as I heely out of the room*

Yuri was lying upside down on Otabek’s sofa, a strawberry lace in his mouth and his phone in his hands.

 

“Ugh, gross,” he mumbled around the lace as he flicked past Victor’s instagram post of him kissing Yuuri, the younger man blushing furiously as he smiled at the camera.

 

“Victor and Yuri?” Otabek guessed.

 

The Kazakh was sat at the other end of the sofa, flicking through the movies on Netflix to find something for them to watch, illuminated by the light of the TV and a single lamp. He was in plain black t-shirt and dark grey sweatpants, perfect gear for lazing around.

 

“Why do they have to be all PDA about their relationship?” Yuri huffed. “It’s been three years!”

 

Otabek shrugged, his dark eyes on the telly. Yuri was used to Otabek’s silence. He got chatty around Yuri because they got on so well, but he was still the strong, silent type.

 

Otabek’s apartment was small but cosy. It was mostly decorated in white, black and grey like the man himself, but somehow it managed not to feel cold. More modern and chic. The charcoal grey sofa that they were on was incredibly comfy. Yuri had tried to insist on sleeping on it when he first visited Kazakhstan as the apartment only had one bedroom, but Otabek had stubbornly refused until Yuri was forced to take his bed.

 

“Die Hard?” Otabek suggested as the film flicked past.

 

“Sure, why not,” Yuri sighed, righting himself as he finished the strawberry lace. “Will you braid my hair?”

 

Otabek nodded as he pressed play on Die Hard, and repositioned himself so Yuri could come and sit between his legs on the sofa. Yuri had been growing his hair out for the last couple of years. It now sat a few inches below his shoulders in a golden wave that he was continually fiddling with.

 

Yuri settled himself comfortably between Otabek’s legs, and tried to look like he was watching the film. In truth, he was enjoying the heat of Otabek’s legs on either side of him, the feeling of his hands tangled in his hair, and the safety he felt whenever he was around his best friend.

 

For Yuri was completely and utterly in love with Otabek Altin. Ever since the dark haired, leather jacket toting hero of Kazakhstan rode into his life on a black motorcycle, Yuri had been head over heels for the man. That was three years ago, and Yuri still hadn’t plucked up the courage to say anything.

 

Otabek’s nails raked lightly across Yuri’s scalp and he suppressed a shudder as his eyes slipped closed. Otabek had a little sister who’s hair he often braided, so when Yuri had complained about his hair getting in the way Otabek had offered to do the same for him. Yuri secretly now knew how to braid hair, but he never missed an opportunity to be close to Otabek.

 

Images flashed on the TV, casting their light over the dark room and the two boys on the sofa. Yuri considered his friendship with Otabek as light fingers smoothed through his hair, taking their time to tease out any tangles before Otabek started plaiting.

 

Yuri had never had a friend as close as Otabek before. When they were in the same country, they spent almost every waking moment together. They knew everything about each other. Yuri knew when Otabek was missing home, and would suggest a long ride on his motorcycle, his arms tight around Otabek’s waist. Otabek knew when Yuri was about to completely lose his temper, and would place a hand lightly on the small of his back or his arm, which calmed Yuri as effectively as petting a cat behind the ears.

 

Sometimes Yuri thought he caught Otabek looking at him with something else in those dark, brooding eyes of his. But then Otabek would look away, and Yuri would know he’d only been seeing what he wanted to see.

 

Otabek’s fingers were twisting his hair into a plait, their rhythm soothing. Yuri blinked slowly at the TV screen, his limbs heavy. He must’ve dozed off, because one second John McClain was visiting his ex wife at her office, and the next he was pulling glass out of his feet.

 

Yuri blinked a few times, confused. Then he realised that the sofa he was laying on was breathing. Yuri froze. Otabek’s chest and stomach were warm against his back, his solid form comforting but also incredibly startling for Yuri. One of Otabek’s hands was lolling off the side of the sofa, the other resting on Yuri’s arm.

 

“Beka?” Yuri said gently, sitting up carefully.

 

“Hey,” Otabek said, and Yuri realised that he had in fact been awake the whole time.

 

Yuri turned to him, a flush on his cheeks.

 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to fall asleep on you,” Yuri mumbled, but stayed where he was between Otabek’s legs.

 

“It’s alright,” Otabek said, the edge of his mouth hitching in a slight smile. “I didn’t want to wake you, you’ve done a lot of travelling today.”

 

This was in fact true, as Yuri had only arrived in Kazakhstan that morning.

 

“Um, thanks,” Yuri said, and some of the awkwardness slipped away from him.

 

He felt himself leaning back against Otabek’s chest, but quickly stopped himself.

 

“Hey do you want some popcorn? I picked some up,” Yuri asked quickly, getting to his feet so suddenly that Otabek looked up at him in surprise.

 

“Sure,” Otabek agreed, and his dark eyes slid back to the telly.

 

Yuri relaxed and sloped through to the kitchen. He flicked on the light, illuminating the white and chrome kitchen and crossed to where his bag was slung on the breakfast counter. He found the popcorn and shoved a pack of it in the microwave. Then he leaned heavily against the side.

 

“What are you doing, Plisetsky?” he muttered to himself, his eyes sliding shut as he leant his head back against a wall cupboard.

 

He tugged his hood over his hair, which had come loose as he slept, and buried his hands in his pockets, listening to the pop of the corns as they cooked. He could hear the murmur of the telly in the other room. Yuri clenched his teeth. He couldn’t let himself get too comfortable. Sure, he felt more comfortable around Otabek than anyone else, and sure they’d fallen asleep together before. But he’d never fallen asleep _on_ Otabek.

 

“Yuri?”

 

Yuri opened his eyes and saw Otabek standing in the doorway.

 

“Are you okay?” he asked, his dark eyes boring into Yuri.

 

“Yeah,” Yuri said, straightening slightly and turning to open the microwave as it beeped. “Just got a bit of a headache.”

 

There was a pause. And then Yuri felt a firm but gentle hand on his arm, turning him round. Yuri reluctantly met Otabek’s gaze.

 

“Why are you lying?” Otabek asked, his intoxicating accent and low voice sending shivers up Yuri’s spine.

 

“What? I’m not, asshole,” Yuri huffed, instantly going on the defensive.

 

“Yes you are,” Otabek said calmly, still giving Yuri that intense stare. “I can always tell when you lie.”

 

“What are you, my mother?” Yuri returned, turning away to grab the bag of popcorn from the microwave.

 

There was silence as Yuri crashed around the kitchen, making far more noise than strictly necessary as he fetched a bowl and poured the popcorn into it. When he turned back to Otabek, he saw that the other man was still staring at him.

 

“What?” Yuri asked harshly, glaring at Otabek from the other side of the breakfast counter.

 

Otabek shook his head, and turned to leave the room.

 

“Beka, wait,” Yuri said, hating to see Otabek leave. “I… I…”

 

Otabek turned back slowly, the slight scowl that permeated his features as unreadable as ever.

 

“Yes, Yuri?” Otabek invited.

 

“I… don’t know,” Yuri said lamely.

 

Otabek watched him silently for a few moments. Then he rounded the counter and came to stand in front of Yuri.

 

“You know I’ll always be around to listen, yes?” Otabek said gently. “You can tell me, Yura.”

 

The pet name slipped down Yuri’s spine, making the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He kept his eyes downcast.

 

“Sometimes I… get confused… around you,” Yuri mumbled very quietly, gripping the popcorn bowl hard.

 

There was a pause.

 

“Confused how?” Otabek pressed gently.

 

Yuri huffed out a sigh of irritation, fixing Otabek with an exasperated look.

 

“Do I have to spell it out?” Yuri said, his accent getting thicker in his distress. “I’m in love with you, asshole.”

 

Yuri flung the bowl onto the counter, spilling a few pieces of popcorn as he turned away and kicked the dishwasher. His shoulders rose and fell with each angry huff of breath as he paced around, refusing to look at Otabek.

 

Then he felt a hand on his elbow, turning him around. Then there were fingers on his chin, tilting his face up.

 

“Wha—?”

 

Otabek’s lips cut him off, pressing into his in a hard kiss. Yuri froze, going stiff in Otabek’s hands. Otabek moved back, concern on his face.

 

“Yura?” he said carefully, searching Yuri’s face.

 

Yuri’s green eyes were wide, his mouth slightly open as he stared at Otabek.

 

“Are you okay?” Otabek asked, looking very worried now.

 

Yuri nodded quickly, his hand going to his mouth. His fingertips brushed his lips in disbelief.

 

“Sorry,” Otabek said, releasing Yuri as he stepped back. “I should have asked.”

 

Yuri caught Otabek’s wrist, making him look back up at him.

 

“Do you think…” Yuri started, his eyes still wide. “Do you think we could do that again?”

 

A smile broke across Otabek’s face. He gathered Yuri close to him, making the smaller man squeak slightly in surprise, his limbs still stiff.

 

“Sure,” Otabek murmured, his eyelids heavy as he gazed into Yuri’s eyes.

 

And then he was kissing him again, and Yuri was melting into his touch, their tongues entwining, his hands smoothing up Otabek’s undercut to tangle in his longer hair, Otabek’s hands gripping his waist, stumbling slightly as Otabek leaned him into the counter, their breathing getting heavy, their cheeks flushing, the kiss getting sloppy, and Yuri was falling, he was falling so bad.

 

“I’m in love with you too,” Otabek said when their lips parted, both of them panting for breath.

 

“Beka,” Yuri whimpered, and embarrassingly he felt tears rising to his eyes.

 

He brushed them away angrily, but this just made Otabek smile and kiss him again. Yuri pushed him back slightly, a hand on his chest and their faces inches apart.

 

“Beka,” Yuri said again. “I want you to be my first.”

 

Otabek’s eyes widened in surprise.

 

“Are… are you sure? Because we don’t have to do anything yet, we can wait,” Otabek said, searching Yuri’s face for any hint of doubt.

 

“I’ve waited for three years,” Yuri said with a lopsided smile. “I think that’s long enough.”

 

Otabek kissed him again. And Yuri felt himself being moved away from the counter and towards the door instead. They bumped into the doorframe, unwilling to part mouths as they stumbled across the apartment towards the bedroom. They tumbled through the door to the bedroom, Otabek pressing Yuri gently up against the wall as he laid sloppy, open mouthed kisses down his neck. Yuri’s breathing was heavy, his cheeks flushed as his head fell back against the wall, drunk with the feeling of Otabek’s hands and mouth on him. Otabek’s mouth closed on his collarbone and Yuri’s hips jerked involuntarily. Otabek grinned against his skin.

 

“I think I’ve found your sweet spot,” Otabek murmured, his breath hot as Yuri let out an embarrassing whimper. “Oh yes, definitely a sweet spot.”

 

Suddenly Otabek hoisted him from the ground, Yuri’s legs automatically wrapping themselves around Otabek’s hips. There wasn’t much in Otabek’s room apart from a wardrobe, a guitar, and a large double bed, low to the ground, which Otabek lay Yuri down on gently, his blonde hair spilling over the white pillows.

 

“Beka,” Yuri sighed as Otabek mouthed at the exposed skin of Yuri’s hipbones.

 

“May I?” Otabek said, sitting up between Yuri’s legs and holding the edges of his hoodie.

 

Yuri nodded, and Otabek slipped it from his shoulders.

 

“And this?” Otabek asked, the hem of Yuri’s t-shirt now in his hands.

 

Yuri rolled his eyes.

 

“You can take it all off, you big dope,” Yuri said, grinning at Otabek.

 

Otabek smiled in response, and tugged the t-shirt over Yuri’s head. Yuri flopped back down against the pillows, his slim torso pale against the sheets.

 

“Beautiful,” Otabek whispered, his mouth finding Yuri’s ribs and kissing a trail down them.

 

Then he was undoing Yuri’s skinny jeans, making him bite his lip and hide his face.

 

“Hey,” Otabek said, reaching up to remove one of Yuri’s hands. “We don’t have to do this.”

 

“No, I want to,” Yuri said, drawing Otabek to him for a kiss. “It’s just all… quite new…”

 

Otabek fixed him with an understanding look that if anyone else had given him would’ve driven Yuri mad. But he didn’t mind with Otabek. He never minded with Otabek.

 

“We’ll take it slow,” Otabek murmured against his lips, making Yuri shiver.

 

Then he was kissing his way back down, removing Yuri’s jeans, making Yuri laugh as he struggled to get the tight material off Yuri’s ankles and cursed in Kazakh. Then his mouth was on the inside of Yuri’s thigh, and the laughter was dying in Yuri’s throat, replaced with a gasp as Otabek’s lips brushed dangerously close to his still clothed crotch.

 

Otabek’s eyes found his. Very slowly, giving Yuri plenty of time to change his mind, Otabek’s hand slid up his leg, and found his hardening cock. Yuri drew in a shaky gasp as Otabek’s hand started to move, rubbing him through the thin fabric of his boxers.

 

“Would you like my mouth?”

 

The low rumble of Otabek’s voice had Yuri panting for breath as he nodded vigorously. His boxers were slipped off, and a blush rose to Yuri’s cheeks as Otabek stared at him. Otabek let out a low hum of approval, and then he bent, his breath ghosting over Yuri’s cock and making it twitch.

 

Yuri’s back arched up off the bed when Otabek took him into his mouth. It was ridiculously wet and warm, the slow roll of Otabek’s tongue maddening as he dragged his lips up and down Yuri’s length.

 

“Beka,” Yuri sighed, as he sagged back to the bed, and Otabek’s eyes found his.

 

Otabek flicked his tongue over the tip of his cock, making Yuri moan and bite his lip. His hand was on Yuri’s shaft, working him in slow brushes as he sucked on Yuri’s head. Yuri was quickly dissolving into a moaning, writhing mess.

 

“Beka,” Yuri gasped. “Beka, stop.”

 

Otabek released him, letting his cock fall wetly onto his stomach as he crawled back up to Yuri’s mouth.

 

“Ready for fingers?” Otabek asked, and Yuri arched up into him, humming his affirmation as he clutched Otabek to him.

 

“Okay,” Otabek chuckled, and leant over to his side table.

 

He rummaged around inside it for a moment, and then drew a bottle of lube out. Yuri was pleased to see that it was new, Otabek having to tear the plastic off the cap. Yuri reached out and drew Otabek’s t-shirt over his head.

 

Otabek’s hair was ruffled when his head remerged, his tanned skin taut over his ridiculously good body. Yuri let out a little whimper, a sudden desire to taste that skin taking him over. He clambered onto Otabek’s lap, straddling him as he sucked at his shoulder. Otabek shivered and sighed, his hands sliding up Yuri’s back.

 

Then Yuri released him, lying back on the bed with a smirk.

 

“Okay, carry on,” he said, making Otabek chuckle.

 

Otabek slicked his fingers with lube, then climbed over Yuri. He kissed him deeply, Yuri’s hands entwining themselves in his hair.

 

“Are you sure?” Otabek asked, his forehead resting against Yuri’s.

 

“Yes,” Yuri whispered, and Otabek’s finger slid into him.

 

Yuri let out a strangled gasp, his eyes going wide.

 

“Shit,” Otabek said, drawing his finger out as his eyes searched Yuri’s face frantically. “I’m sorry, Yuri.”

 

“No,” Yuri said, gripping his upper arm to guide his hand back. “It felt good.”

 

Otabek’s brow pinched, his mouth falling open slightly as Yuri guided his finger back inside him. Yuri keened and arched his back.

 

“More,” he gasped, and Otabek inserted a second finger.

 

Yuri dragged his teeth across Otabek’s bottom lip as his fingers stretched him. Then he released it with a moan, his fingers digging into Otabek’s shoulders as he brushed up against something inside him.

 

Otabek chuckled and kissed him.

 

“Good?” Otabek asked, brushing the spot again as he watched Yuri writhe beneath him.

 

Yuri nodded furiously, clutching to Otabek desperately.

 

“Beka,” he gasped. “I need you.”

 

Otabek let out a little groan. He continued to finger Yuri open for a while though, clearly wanting to be sure he was properly prepared. Eventually his fingers slid out of Yuri, making him moan at the loss of touch. But then Otabek was slipping his sweatpants off along with his boxers, and any complaint was stolen right from Yuri. He gaped. Otabek was huge, his cock already hard and heavy.

 

Wide eyed, Yuri reached forwards and placed a hand around it. It was thick. Otabek trembled, his eyes sliding shut as he knelt up in front of Yuri. Then he uncapped the bottle.

 

“Please,” Yuri said, his eyes finding Otabek’s. “Let me.”

 

Otabek’s mouth fell open, his face the picture of desperate hunger as he watched Yuri take the bottle and pour some lube into his palm. Then he gasped as Yuri took him back into his hand. His hands shot out to clutch Yuri’s shoulders. Yuri squeezed slightly.

 

“Oh god, Yuri stop,” Otabek gasped, his hand finding Yuri’s wrist.

 

Yuri complied, settling himself back against the pillows again, his eyes hooded with lust as he stared up at Otabek. Otabek leant over him, his mouth finding Yuri’s as he lined himself up, pressing Yuri’s legs apart.

 

“I love you,” Otabek said against his lips, and then he was inside him and Yuri was crying out, clutching Otabek’s back as he threw his head back.

 

“Yura,” Otabek gasped, his eyes wide with concern as he went to pull out.

 

But Yuri’s legs clamped down around his waist, holding him in.

 

“No,” Yuri said, opening his eyes to stare into Otabek’s as he tried to regulate his breathing. “I just need a moment.”

 

Otabek complied, staying still inside Yuri even though it was clearly taking all his willpower as he trembled above him.

 

“Okay,” Yuri said, adjusting his hips slightly. “You can move.”

 

Otabek groaned as he drew slowly out of Yuri, before sliding back in equally as slow.

 

“Oh fuck, Yura, you’re so tight,” Otabek gasped, his head falling forwards to rest on Yuri’s shoulder.

 

Otabek shook slightly as he set up a slow rhythm. Yuri responded gradually, his body sliding in time with Otabek’s, their heat, and limbs, and mouths pressed together. He loved the weight of Otabek on top of him, the stretch of him inside him. Then Otabek repositioned his hips as he slid in and Yuri cried out.

 

“Beka,” he gasped, his eyes wide. “Oh god, you feel good.”

 

Otabek gave him a lazy smile before drawing out and thrusting back against the same spot. Yuri whimpered, squeezing Otabek’s sides slightly with his thighs. He now entered into Otabek’s slow and steady rhythm with more enthusiasm, their bodies rolling together, becoming slightly slick with sweat, fingers entwining, mouths panting.

 

“More,” Yuri managed to choke out. “Beka, more.”

 

Otabek leant back slightly, one hand still holding Yuri’s next to his head, the other gripping the headboard. His slid in to the hilt, making Yuri curse in Russian before he slid back out and then sharply in again.

 

“Yes,” Yuri gasped. “Oh fuck, yes.”

 

Otabek groaned and started slamming repeatedly into Yuri, making Yuri’s legs flop and his body jerk with each thrust. Yuri cried out, one hand clutching at the duvet as he was fucked mercilessly into the bed, loving every second of it. Otabek groaned, his eyes scrunching shut as he clutched the headboard.

 

“Yes, Beka,” Yuri whimpered, and the sound of his name had Otabek moaning and cursing in Kazakh.

 

Yuri was ridiculously turned on by this. He clenched his muscles experimentally around Otabek. He crumpled, his head collapsing against Yuri’s shoulder as he let out a stream of Kazakh words into Yuri’s ear.

 

Otabek’s hips snapped forwards repeatedly, hitting Yuri’s spot over and over.

 

“Beka,” Yuri gasped. “I’m close.”

 

Otabek’s mouth found his mouth, and his hand found Yuri’s cock. Yuri whimpered, squeezing Otabek’s other hand tightly in his own.

 

“Cum. Now,” Otabek breathed against his lips.

 

And the command sent Yuri tumbling over the edge, and he was seeing stars, and Otabek was moving inside him, and he was heavy against him, and his mouth was on his, and oh god this felt so good, how could it feel so damn good?

 

Otabek came with a desperate groan of “Yura!”. His hips continued to roll as they rode out their orgasms, kisses sloppy and limbs jerking.

 

Then it was over and they were both panting heavily. Otabek drew out carefully, reaching over to the side table for a box of tissues. He cleaned Yuri up with tender hands, kissing the inside of Yuri’s wrist when he was done. Yuri watched him through sleepy eyes. He couldn’t wipe the lazy smile from his face, watching Otabek as he gently took care of him.

 

Otabek lay down next to him, dragging the duvet over them both. Yuri snuggled into his chest, Otabek tucking him under his chin as his arms encircled the smaller man. He stroked Yuri’s hair.

 

“Goodnight, Beka,” Yuri hummed, laying a kiss against his collarbone.

 

“Goodnight, Yuri,” Otabek murmured, kissing the top of his head.

  
Yuri smiled, and wondered what he’d done to deserve being this happy.


	2. Mouthful of Fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More fluff for the soul.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of childhood domestic abuse, nothing explicit but thought it worth noting.

Yuri was four years old. The carpet was scratchy against his bare feet as he shivered. He was just in an oversized t-shirt, which looked more like a dress on him as he stood in the sitting room of his mother’s house.

 

“Yuriiiiii,” she slurred, head flopping to one side. “Be a good boy and empty mummy’s ashtray, hm?”

 

Yuri bit his lip, his large green eyes on the bottle in mummy’s hand.

 

“Yuri? Did you hear me?”

 

Yuri’s eyes snapped back to her face. Her lipstick was smudged and the strap of her dress had slipped from her shoulder.

 

“Okay mummy,” he said, his voice small and scared as he took the ashtray from the table.

 

But he couldn’t make his feet move towards the dark doorway. The corridor was where _it_ lived.

 

“Go on, Yuri,” his mother cooed. “Run along now.”

 

Yuri took a few hesitant steps forwards, feeling her gaze on him. He could feel his heart beating hard inside his chest as the doorway seemed to swell in his gaze. Then he steeled himself and walked firmly forwards.

 

“There’s a good boy,” his mother’s voice came, sounding oddly distorted as he stepped into the corridor.

 

He looked to his left, and he saw it. The little orange glow, brightening for a second before it was lowered.

 

“What are you doing up, boy?” the voice came, and it was not his mother’s voice.

 

“I’m emptying mummy’s ashtray for her,” Yuri said, his voice shaking as he gripped a handful of the oversized t-shirt in one tiny fist.

 

“Oh yeah?” the gravelly voice said, so much deeper than Yuri was used to.

 

Yuri nodded, his eyes wide as they strained to see the source of the voice in the darkness. He thought he might be able to see his silhouette. His hands trembled, and he turned to go into the kitchen.

 

And then he tripped.

 

The ashtray slipped from his grasp, ash spilling out onto the carpet of the hallway.

 

“You stupid brat!” the voice boomed.

 

And Yuri was scrabbling backwards as heavy footfalls thundered down the corridor towards him.

 

“I’m — I’m sorry,” Yuri sobbed. “I didn’t mean to.”

 

His step father emerged into the light spilling from the living room, his fist raised, his ruddy face twisted with rage.

 

“Yura!”

 

“No, don’t, it was an accident!”

 

“Yura! Wake up, it’s just a dream.”

 

Yuri sat bolt upright in bed, almost knocking heads with his boyfriend who was shaking him awake. Yuri’s chest heaved as Otabek pulled him against his own.

 

“It’s okay, Yura,” Otabek murmured as the tears came. “It wasn’t real, I’m here.”

 

He carried on murmuring words of comfort into Yuri’s hair as he rocked him slowly, cradling Yuri’s blonde head against his chest.

 

Moonlight fell blue silver through a gap in the curtains across their bed.

 

“You’re safe, I’m here,” Otabek whispered, the hand that cradled his head now stroking his hair gently.

 

The tears continued to fall as Yuri let himself be rocked back and forth, his breathing coming in jagged gasps. Eventually his breathing evened out, save for the occasional hiccup. Otabek moved him back slightly to look at him.

 

Yuri hung his head, letting his long hair fall over his face in a sheet. It was down to his waist now. But Otabek moved it back and tucked it behind his ear. Yuri stared down at the white sheets covering his legs, too ashamed to meet Otabek’s gaze.

 

“Hey,” Otabek said softly, and took Yuri’s chin to gently guide his face up so their eyes could meet. “We’ve talked about this. No hiding from me, you have nothing to be embarrassed about.”

 

Yuri nodded, feeling a fresh wave of tears well up in his eyes as he was reminded of just how much Otabek loved him. Otabek wiped away the tear that spilled over, giving him a soft smile. Then he reached behind him for the tissue box and offered it to him. Yuri took a couple. He wiped his blotchy face, his hands shaking.

 

“Would hot cocoa make it better?” Otabek asked gently.

 

Yuri nodded. He may be twenty-one now, but moment’s like these always called for hot cocoa.

 

“Okay,” Otabek hummed and climbed off the bed to pad over to the door.

 

Yuri sat in bed for a moment, the sheets twisted around him from where he’d writhed about, before he got up to follow his boyfriend. Otabek was busy digging a pan out of the large pan drawer under the stove. He turned, pan in hand, when Yuri came in.

 

Yuri was in one of Otabek’s long sleeved, baggy tops, which brushed the very top of his slim thighs. He was all legs and arms, unlike Otabek who was solidly built, with wide shoulders and a broad chest. That chest was bare now, grey sweats slung low on his hips as Yuri crossed to him. Otabek accepted him into his arms and Yuri closed his eyes as he rested his head against Otabek’s shoulder. He was the same height as Otabek now, maybe even an inch or so taller. But Otabek always seemed like the bigger of the two because of his build, and Yuri loved how safe it made him feel, though he’d never admit that to anyone.

 

The skin of Otabek’s torso was hot against Yuri, which was nice as he always seemed to run cold.

 

“You okay?” Otabek asked, and Yuri nodded against his shoulder, breathing in Otabek’s scent. Pine, and soap, and warm skin.

 

Yuri released him after a few more moments of letting the other man’s solidness comfort him. Otabek gave him a little smile as he moved back, before turning to place the pan on the stove. Then he crossed to the fridge to retrieve the milk, Yuri stepping out of his way. He climbed up to sit onto the island counter that sat in the middle of the kitchen, watching Otabek as he poured the milk into the pan and lit the gas ring beneath it.

 

Yuri pulled the sleeves of the top he wore down to cover his hands. Otabek stirred lazily, humming out a tune as he did. Yuri felt his heart swell for the other man. Could he have asked for a better boyfriend?

 

A couple of minutes later and Otabek was pouring the cocoa into two mugs.

 

“We don’t have any marshmallows,” Otabek said apologetically as he handed Yuri a mug.

 

“That’s okay,” Yuri said, smiling at him. “I like it like this.”

 

“Want to drink it in here or in bed?” Otabek asked, blowing on his own cocoa.

 

“In bed,” Yuri said, and slipped from the counter, careful not to spill his drink.

 

Otabek flicked off the lights and they returned to their bedroom. The apartment they shared was small, but in a nice, cosy way. Their bedroom was big enough to fit a double bed in, and it was nice that their sitting room was more of a snug than a proper living space. The kitchen was a perk, it being large enough to fit the central island counter in with enough space to move around it. They used it as a table, with stools circling it in front of the drawers set into it.

 

Yuri climbed into bed and propped his pillows up to lean against them. Otabek flicked on the side table light as he joined him. He offered an arm to Yuri, and Yuri snuggled under it against Otabek’s side.

 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Otabek asked, his voice gentle.

 

Yuri shrugged fiddling with the sheets with his free hand as he sipped his hot chocolate.

 

“Okay, well you don’t have to, but I’m here if you want to,” Otabek said, and kissed his temple.

 

Yuri thought for a little while.

 

“Do you think they’ll ever stop?” he asked eventually, his voice very quiet.

 

“The dreams?” Otabek replied. “I dunno… maybe if you saw someone —”

 

“I’m not going to a shrink,” Yuri broke in, giving Otabek a warning look.

 

Otabek sighed.

 

“Okay,” he said, giving Yuri a little squeeze. “It was just a suggestion.”

 

There was another pause. Yuri sipped at his hot chocolate, thinking. There was part of him that wanted to see his mother in his dreams. The heart attack that had killed her had happened when he was ten years old, and had been living with his grandfather for just over five years.

 

When Nikolai had found out about the beatings he had come round to Yuri’s mother’s house with a baseball bat. He’d threatened to kill Yuri’s stepfather if he ever made contact with his daughter again. Then he took Yuri to live with him. Although he tried his best to get his daughter to go to rehab, she kept falling back into her old ways. Eventually her body just couldn’t handle it anymore, and Yuri was left with no parents at all.

 

“Part of me hopes they don’t stop,” he whispered, staring into his cocoa. “Because the dreams mean I get to see her, even if they’re scary.”

 

“Oh Yura,” Otabek sighed, and placed his own mug and then Yuri’s down on the side table before engulfing him in a hug.

 

Yuri clutched him, suddenly aware that he was not alone. That he never would be. Because Otabek loved him, and clearly was here to stay.

 

“Can you sing to me?” Yuri asked, his voice muffled against Otabek’s shoulder.

 

“Sure,” Otabek said, and reached over to turn off the lamp. Then he moved down the bed so he could lay back, Yuri cradled to his chest as he started to sing.

 

“ _Whispers soft and violets blue_ …”

 

Yuri smiled when he heard the song. It was one Otabek had made up himself, and always made Yuri happy and relaxed.

 

_“Boy you don’t know my love for you..._

 

_Tell me sweet things that I’ll like,_

 

_Don’t forget my kiss goodnight..._

 

_Over hills and under lakes,_

 

_Boy my heart so happy you make..._

 

_Touch your lips soft to mine,_

 

_Your soul is special and heart divine…”_

 

Yuri was already feeling sleepy and heavy limbed, Otabek’s low voice rumbling through his chest where Yuri’s head rested. Otabek finished the song, and not long after Yuri drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.

 

When Yuri woke in the morning it was to find Otabek already awake and propped up in bed next to him with a book.

 

“Morning,” Otabek said as Yuri rolled over.

 

Yuri blinked blearily, frowning up at Otabek. Otabek grinned at his grumpy expression and bent to kiss him. Yuri hummed in pleasure.

 

“So how long did you watch me for this morning?” Yuri asked, aware that Otabek liked watching him sleep.

 

“Only twenty minutes,” Otabek said guiltily.

 

“Creep,” Yuri snorted, but he was smiling.

 

He went to get out of bed, but Otabek stopped him.

 

“Wait, stay here,” Otabek said, flinging his legs over the edge of the bed. “Just give me a minute.”

 

With that he hurried off, leaving Yuri to gaze at his perfect back muscles.

 

“Okay but maybe lose the sweatpants on your way back,” Yuri called after him.

 

He heard Otabek chuckle and threw himself back down with a sigh. Sunlight was streaming through the gap in the curtains, and he could tell it was going to be a lovely spring day. He could hear the traffic of St Petersburg in the streets below, but it felt like him and Otabek were in their own little world.

 

Otabek returned moments later with a tray. Yuri sat up, grinning.

 

“What did I do to deserve you?” Yuri asked as Otabek settled next to him and placed the breakfast tray in Yuri's lap.

 

“Had a nice ass,” Otabek returned as he stole a blueberry off Yuri's plate.

 

Yuri laughed, delighted. Otabek hardly ever made rude jokes, Yuri being the cruder of the two, so it always pleased him when he did.

 

He looked down at the tray before him. Otabek had outdone himself with a massive stack of blueberry pancakes, topped with bacon and maple syrup and served with freshly squeezed orange juice. Yuri dug in.

 

“Oh my god,” Yuri moaned around a mouthful of pancake.

 

“Good?” Otabek asked, watching him expectantly.

 

Yuri swallowed. “Very,” he replied, before shovelling another forkful in.

 

“You eat like an animal,” Otabek snorted, rolling his eyes.

 

“But I'm your animal,” Yuri said, grinning at Otabek.

 

“Hmm yes,” Otabek hummed, and leant forward to peck Yuri on the lips. “Mm,” he said as he moved back, licking his lips. “Sugary.”

 

“Please stop that it's very distracting,” Yuri said, looking away from Otabek's absurd tongue and concentrating on his pancakes.

 

They chatted as Yuri finished eating, Yuri drawing lovely, deep throated laughs out of Otabek. Then Otabek took the tray and lay it on the floor.

 

“Now, my little Yuratchka,” Otabek said, turning to Yuri with a look in his eye that made Yuri shriek and scramble away from him across the bed.

 

Otabek caught him easily as Yuri got tangled in the sheets, and they fell laughing onto the mattress. Otabek kissed him all over, making Yuri shriek with laughter as he found all his ticklish spots. Otabek’s head somehow worked its way under Yuri’s top and Yuri was weak with laughter as Otabek teased his sides with his lips and fingers. Then suddenly Otabek was sucking on his nipple and Yuri's laughter caught in his throat, turning into a moan.

 

He tugged his top up so he could tangle his hands in Otabek’s hair, watching as Otabek’s pink lips trailed over his pale chest. Otabek looked up at him through thick lashes and licked his nipple. Yuri’s mouth fell open slightly.

 

Otabek ground his hips down into Yuri’s as he came up to kiss him. Yuri groaned. His fingers clutched desperately at Otabek’s hair as their hips rolled together, his brow furrowed, his breathing jagged. They shed their clothes, Yuri barely noticing, drunk on Otabek. Then Otabek was pushed flush against him and Yuri gasped. Otabek was _hot_. He bit his bottom lip as Otabek’s large cock slid over his.

 

The first time he’d seen Otabek’s dick he thought he was going to faint. It was a fucking beast. He loved it, quickly realising that he was a complete size whore and taking every opportunity to have it in his mouth. Like now, for instance.

 

He rolled them so he was on top, his hair falling to one side in a waterfall of gold. Otabek’s eyes were hooded with lust as he stared down at him, biting his lip as he traced a finger along Otabek’s sharp jaw. Then he kissed him.

 

Otabek’s hands came around his waist squeezing them together, but Yuri slipped down, laying breathy, open mouthed kisses down Otabek’s chest. Otabek’s breathing was ragged, and Yuri nibbled at his lowest rib, loving how easy it was for him to take Otabek to pieces. He settled between Otabek’s legs and let his breath ghost over Otabek’s erection. His cock twitched in response. Yuri took it into his mouth.

 

Otabek groaned, his stomach muscles clenching as he rose off the bed slightly, instinctively curling towards Yuri as his hands buried themselves in Yuri’s hair. Yuri sucked. He loved the way Otabek’s cock throbbed in his mouth, how it stretched his lips, the weight of it, the press of it as he pushed himself all the way down to the root, his nose flush against Otabek’s pelvis.

 

Otabek lay back, whimpering as Yuri swallowed, making the walls of his throat constrict around Otabek at the same time as he rolled his tongue.

 

“Yura,” Otabek breathed, one hand going to clutch his own hair, the other still buried in Yuri’s.

 

Yuri hummed in pleasure at the nickname, which made Otabek moan as the vibrations thrummed down his cock. Yuri started to move. He bobbed his head, his cheeks hollowing as he worked his tongue on the underside of Otabek’s cock.

 

“Oh god,” Otabek choked out, and Yuri looked up to see his eyes were screwed shut, his mouth having fallen open.

 

“Mmmm,” Yuri hummed with Otabek still in his mouth, making the other man jerk and twitch. Yuri released him. “You taste good, Beka,” he purred, eyes sultry as he gazed up at Otabek.

 

Otabek opened his eyes as Yuri crawled up him, his shoulders in a slow roll like a cat stalking prey. Otabek watched him, completely helpless as Yuri straddled him, letting Otabek’s cock brush between his cheeks.

 

Yuri leant over and opened the side table draw. He quickly found the lube and uncapped it. Yuri gazed down at Otabek, whose hands were dancing over Yuri’s thighs, as though he wasn’t sure he was allowed to touch. Yuri slicked his fingers before discarding the lube on the bed. He reached behind himself.

 

“Yura,” Otabek gasped, as Yuri slid two fingers into himself.

 

“Mmmm,” Yuri hummed, letting his eyes fall shut and his head droop back as he rocked down on his own fingers.

 

Then he looked back down at Otabek, his fingers still fucking up into him.

 

“This is how I touch myself when you’re not here, Beka,” Yuri said, his voice low, commanding and dripping with sex.

 

Otabek gazed up at him enthralled, helpless.

 

“I imagine that you’re here,” Yuri continued, placing the thumb of his free hand on Otabek’s lips.

 

Otabek’s lips parted obediently, and Yuri pushed his thumb in, his brow furrowing as Otabek sucked.

 

“I imagine that it’s your fingers inside me,” Yuri said, his voice getting breathless as he fucked into himself faster, having found that perfect spot. “Then I imagine you taking me apart, fucking me mercilessly. I imagine you making me beg, making me scream. But now you’re my good boy, isn’t that right, pitomets ty moy?"

 

Otabek groaned at the Russian, his eyes rolling back as he sucked on Yuri’s thumb. Yuri dragged his thumb out, slowly, pulling Otabek’s bottom lip down as he went. Then he pulled his fingers out of himself and used the remainder of the lube on Otabek’s cock, making him tremble and gasp.

 

Yuri lined himself up, and then sunk onto Otabek. He sighed as his walls relaxed, but Otabek was a mess, desperately clutching the sheets and his head thrown to one side as his chest heaved.

 

Yuri leant forwards. He drew Otabek’s face to his, laying a messy, lazy kiss on his lips as he rose up and then sunk back down. Otabek whimpered into his mouth and Yuri smiled. He leant back.

 

“Da, lyubov' moya,” Yuri purred as he started to ride Otabek’s cock.

 

Otabek arched up off the bed, his eyes rolling back as he gripped Yuri’s thighs.

 

“Ty tak khorosh” Yuri gasped, one hand going to grip his own hair as the other rested on Otabek’s chest, his brow furrowing as rose and fell repeatedly.

 

Otabek sat up, his eyes dark with something that sent a thrill up Yuri’s spine. His arms encircled Yuri, holding him close as he rearranged himself into a kneeling position. Then he started to fuck up into Yuri. Yuri lost it.

 

“Beka,” he whined, his head falling back as Otabek gripped his hips, guiding him up and down as he plowed into mercilessly. He kept hitting his prostate and Yuri thought he was about to come apart at the seams from how good it felt.

 

He was loose limbed and pliable, his hands on Otabek’s shoulders and his head bouncing slightly where it hung limply back. Otabek was the only thing holding him up as he drove up into him repeatedly.

 

“Ohhh,” Yuri breathed. “Oh, Beka, oh fuck yes, oh fuck fill me up, mmphf, yes.”

 

Otabek lips latched onto Yuri’s collarbone and Yuri’s hands came up to tangle in Otabek’s hair, their bodies curved towards each other despite the angle.

 

Then Otabek was laying him back on the bed, planting one hand securely down on the mattress, the other gripping the back of Yuri’s thigh. And then he started thrusting, and Yuri was sure he was lost.

 

“Ah... don’t… stop… Beka,” Yuri panted, his body jerking with each powerful thrust of Otabek’s.

 

The other man gazed down at him, and there was so much adoration in his eyes that Yuri felt a lump form in his throat. He looked beautiful like this, his firm muscles bunched, his lips slightly parted, the long strands of his hair falling forwards. Yuri reached up and placed a hand on his cheek. Otabek closed his eyes and breathed his name.

 

And just like that Yuri was cumming, body arching, toes curling, mouth moaning, body shaking. Otabek gasped and his hips stuttered, and Yuri felt his load wet him, felt the excess trickling over his cheeks as Otabek’s mouth fell open and his brow pinched, eyes never leaving Yuri’s.

 

Their hips rolled with it, cresting the wave, before slowly coming to a stop. Otabek drew out shakily. He leant over to the side table, retrieving a box of tissues with clumsy hands. He gently wiped Yuri clean, lips trembling as they lay kisses over the spots where he’d just cleaned.

 

Yuri watched him, hair fanning out around his head and a sleepy smile on his face as he watched the man he loved fuss over him.

 

Eventually Otabek was satisfied with how clean he was, and lay down under Yuri’s arm. Yuri wrapped his arms around him as Otabek’s head came to rest on his shoulder. He kissed the top of his head.

 

“How do you feel?” Otabek asked, shuddering as Yuri started to draw lazy patterns on his back with his fingertips.

 

“I’m okay,” Yuri sighed, his eyes on the ceiling as he listened to Otabek’s steady breathing, his heartbeat thudding against Yuri’s side. “Thank you for being so brilliant about it.”

 

“That’s what I’m here for,” Otabek replied, turning his head to kiss Yuri’s chest, his mouth hot against Yuri’s bare skin, before settling back down.

 

“What do you want to do today?” Yuri asked, his sentence stuttering out into a yawn.

 

“We could go for breakfast?” Otabek suggested. “There's a new cafe in that square you like.”

 

“Breakfast sounds great,” Yuri agreed.

 

And as he showered and got ready, his boyfriend making him coffee and giving him affectionate little touches and kisses, Yuri revelled in just how idyllic his life was now. He had everything he'd ever dreamed of, and they still had so much time.

 

* * *

 

 

Okay so I google translated the fuck outta this, please let me know if you speak Russian and I have got the translations horribly wrong thus offending you and your ancestors.

 

Domashneye zhivotnoye - pet

 

Da, lyubov' moya - yes, my love

 

Vy chuvstvuyete sebya nastol'ko khorosho - you feel so good


	3. Mouthful of Fairy Lights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is my favourite one shot so far, it's all downhill from here my dudes.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of previous non con, nothing explicit, no detail.

Otabek was still fairly new to the whole Christmas thing. He smiled as he watched Yuri balancing on a chair as he reached to place the star on top of the tree. This was his sixth year of joining Yuri for Christmas, and he still wasn’t tired of it. Yuri had been thunderstruck when Otabek had told him that they didn’t really celebrate Christmas is Kazakhstan, but rather put more emphasis on Eid. He’d insisted that Otabek join him and his grandfather that year, and it had become tradition.

But this year was different. Yuri’s grandfather had passed away eight months before, leaving the young Russian everything he owned but taking with him the last of Yuri’s family. Otabek had moved to St Petersburg after that. He’d hated the idea of Yuri being alone there, even if he had Victor and Yuuri living close by, they weren’t the same as he was. He could be there for Yuri in a way no one else could.

So now he and Yuri lived within walking distance of each other; Yuri still in his grandfather’s apartment, Otabek renting his own. And now they were busy decorating what was now Yuri’s place.

“Waddaya think?” Yuri asked, putting his hands on his hips as he leant back to take in the tree.

“I think it looks great,” Otabek said, smiling at Yuri.

“Hmmm…” Yuri hummed, clearly not convinced as he squinted at the tree. “There’s a bit of a gap here. Pass me another ornament.”

Otabek obliged, taking the last of the ornaments — a little gold angel playing a flute — and passing it to Yuri. Yuri hung the angel in the space he’d indicated, then stepped off the chair.

“Now that’s a Christmas tree,” Yuri said, a smile on his face as he took in the final effect.

“Not bad,” Otabek agreed, his arms still full of lights.

Yuri turned to him.

“Ready to string those up around the window?” he asked, looking keen.

“Sure,” Otabek agreed. “Just let me get some more mulled wine. Want some?”

“Please,” Yuri nodded.

He handed the lights to Yuri and headed over to the kitchen.

The apartment was warm despite the freezing Russian winter. The sitting room they were decorating lead directly into the kitchen, reminding Otabek strongly of Joey and Chandler’s place from that Friends show, except with nice hardwood floors, more cosy cushions and lamps, and bookshelves covering the wall with the doors to the bedrooms in it.

Otabek collected their abandoned mugs from the counter and brought them to the stove. He ladled out the steaming wine into the two mugs, relishing the smell of spices and alcohol.

When he returned to the sitting room, it was to find Yuri over by the window, standing on the back of the couch as he struggled to pin the lights to the ceiling.

“Easy there,” Otabek said, hurriedly placing the mugs down and rushing to steady Yuri as he wobbled.

“Ack, this plaster is too hard, the pin keeps bending,” Yuri complained, turning to look at Otabek.

“Hm?” Otabek asked, having been completely distracted by the fact that his hands were on Yuri’s thighs.

This was a regular occurrence for Otabek. Sometimes Yuri would brush his now waist length hair over one shoulder, or his loose ballet jumper would slip down to expose one creamy white shoulder, or he’d snuggle right up against Otabek as they watched TV, and suddenly Otabek would be finding it hard to form coherent thoughts, let alone sentences. Because Otabek Altin was completely and utterly in love with Yuri Plisetsky.

It had started about a year into them becoming reacquainted. Yuri had had a growth spurt over the summer, coming back to competitions as about seventy percent leg. He’d not put on any weight, but rather than looking lanky, the slimness only made his limbs more graceful.

He’d flung himself at Otabek in a whirl of blonde hair, and the realisation that Otabek had a ridiculously big crush on Yuri had hit him at the same time the Russian skater did. And from there his crush had turned into a serious attraction, and from a serious attraction into love.

“Are you even listening?” Yuri asked, amusement quirking up one side of his mouth.

“Sure, sorry,” Otabek said quickly, flushing slightly. “Must be the wine. The pin keeps bending?”

“Yeah I can’t get it to go in,” Yuri huffed.

“Let me try,” Otabek offered, and stepped back to allow Yuri to climb down.

Yuri did so, swinging his blonde hair back so that a wave of his sandalwood scented shampoo hit Otabek’s nose. Otabek blinked, slightly distracted by this, but he stepped up onto the couch all the same, taking the offered lights and pin box.

Otabek was better at getting the pins in, mainly due to him having more patience and not forcing the pin in when there was resistance. Soon the lights were strung up around the window, and the pair of them flopped onto the couch.

They cupped their mugs of mulled wine, considering the room. The Christmas tree was over in the centre of the opposite wall, halfway between where the kitchen started and the bookcase wall stood. The bookcase wall had a few new additions too; little ornaments and Christmassy candles dotted around the shelves.

It was dark and stormy outside, the rain making the fairy lights, candles, and lamps light feel even more cosy.

Otabek sighed contentedly, and Yuri stretched out like a cat, placing his mug down on the coffee table in front of them as he lay his head in Otabek’s lap.

“Hair?” Yuri asked, and Otabek obliged.

Yuri didn’t even have to say what he meant anymore, all it took was that one word and Otabek knew that Yuri wanted him to stroke his hair. It would make him sleepy and heavy limbed, and he’d often fall asleep in Otabek’s lap.

Christmas had quickly become Otabek’s favourite holiday, despite it not being usual for him. With the loss of Yuri’s grandfather, Victor and Yuuri had of course invited Yuri to theirs for the big day. But Yuri had refused, planning to spend a quiet day with Otabek.

Otabek had been immensely pleased by this, although he hadn’t let Yuri see just how much. He loved this time of year. The way Yuri would get all excited, reverting back to a child even though he was now twenty one years old. How he’d drag Otabek around the Christmas markets, pointing out his favourite decorations and insisting they stuff themselves full of sweets. How his cheeks would go all pink with the cold, and he’d unconsciously draw close to Otabek as they walked, seeking his warmth.

It had of course been different this year. Otabek had had to be the excited one for the both of them. It had helped, drawing Yuri out of the slump that he’d sunk into since his grandfather’s death. When Otabek gave him an advent calendar it had been the first time he’d seen Yuri smile in months.

Yuri sighed in his lap, his eyes closing as Otabek lightly scraped his nails across Yuri’s scalp. Otabek loved Yuri’s hair. It was soft and caught the light like spun gold. Sometimes he’d wear it up in a messy bun, exposing his slender neck and beautiful jawline, and Otabek would get weak at the knees.

Ten minutes into Otabek stroking his hair and Yuri was out of it. Otabek carried on anyway, liking the silkiness of his hair. He watched Yuri’s eyelashes flutter slightly on his cheek as he dreamt. His hand was warm on Otabek’s thigh where he’d put it to cushion his head.

Otabek’s heart ached as he looked down at the man he loved, the ridiculous, gangly, snarky man he loved. There were times like this that it hurt even more that he couldn’t tell Yuri how he felt. The times in which it almost felt like they were a couple. Like when Yuri linked their hands when they were walking, or insisted on Otabek giving him a piggy back, or climbed into bed with Otabek.

The last one was the hardest. Yuri had started doing it after his grandfather had died. Otabek had been crashing at his, just down the corridor from Yuri’s bedroom in the spare room. He’d woken to find Yuri crawling into bed beside him, the tears on his face visible even in the low light of the room. Otabek had accepted him into a hug without a word, cradling his head against his chest as he stroked his hair, feeling the sobs rack Yuri’s body like earthquakes. And his heart had screamed out, had wanted to tell Yuri that he wasn’t alone, because he was in love with him, that he’d always be in love with him.

But he couldn’t. If Yuri had rejected him things would’ve become awkward between them, and then Yuri would have lost another person in his life. And Otabek couldn’t do that to him.

So he’d stayed quiet. He’d let Yuri climb into his bed night after night, spending so much time at Yuri’s place that he ended up bringing a bunch of his clothes over.

He’d thought about suggesting that he move in, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Having nowhere to go to escape the temptation of Yuri seemed very foolish, so as much as he wanted to offer it, Otabek held back. And Yuri had never suggested it, although he insisted Otabek stay over nearly every night.

Some of these nights Otabek would slip into the best sleep, the comfort of having Yuri beside him a strong sedative. But others he’d lay awake, Yuri cuddled into his chest, which felt like it’d break from the pain. Because it was torture having him so close and not being able to tell him just what he meant to Otabek.

But Otabek suffered in silence, because that’s what friends did. Especially when one of you was experiencing the most painful, difficult period of his life.

Yuri sighed in his sleep, and Otabek snapped out of his reverie, looking down at the younger man. Yuri’s brow pinched, and then smoothed out, a slight smile on his lips.

“Beka,” he sighed in his sleep.

Otabek’s heart skipped a beat, and then proceeded to try to crawl out of his chest in order to get to Yuri. As gently as he could he slipped out from beneath Yuri, laying his head down carefully where he’d just been sitting. Yuri mumbled slightly, but then settled back into sleep.

Otabek watched him for a moment, before going to kitchen. He leant heavily on the sink, taking slow steady breaths.

“Goddamit,” Otabek sighed, leaning his forehead on the cupboard above the sink.

“Beka?”

Otabek turned, startled by the sight of Yuri standing on the other side of the counter which divided the kitchen from the lounge.

“Hey, you’re awake,” Otabek said, forcing a smile onto his face.

“Are you okay?” Yuri asked, rubbing one eye as he looked at Otabek sleepily. “You looked, I dunno, stressed a moment ago.”

“Oh I’m fine,” Otabek said, waving away Yuri’s concern. “Just tired.”

Yuri stared at him for a moment, before shrugging and entering the kitchen to go to the kettle. He flicked it on and dug out two mugs.

“What do you want to do?” Yuri asked, before yawning wide, covering his mouth with one hand.

He was in a jumper that was about five times too big for him, thick socks over the women’s leggings he wore on his lower half. He looked absolutely adorable, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms as he blinked sleepily at Otabek. Otabek looked away.

“I don’t mind,” he said, running his thumb over a chip in the edge of the counter. “We could watch a movie? Or play a board game?”

“Oooo we haven’t played a board game in ages,” Yuri said, and Otabek looked up to see he was looking more awake, excited by the prospect of a game. “How about we make it a drinking game?”

Otabek grinned. At first he’d been worried about getting drunk around Yuri in case he said something. But he quickly found that Yuri was a complete light weight and was always the drunker of the pair of them, meaning Otabek had to stay in control enough to look after him, which also happened to mean him staying in control enough to keep his mouth shut.

He bent and opened Yuri’s drink cupboard, drawing out a bottle of whiskey and vodka.

“What’ll it be, Plisetsky?” Otabek asked, a smirk tugging at his lips as he raised a brow at Yuri.

Yuri bit his lip in a rather distracting manner, his eyes flashing mischievously.

“Let’s start with vodka,” he said, slipping into the space between Otabek and the sink to get to the glasses cupboard and almost giving Otabek a heart attack.

He drew out two shot glasses.

Half an hour later and they were both a little tipsy, but still very much in control. Otabek had insisted they start with a mixer rather than straight shots, otherwise Yuri would be out before they even finished the game. They were playing scrabble, the person who’d just gone giving the other person the same amount of fingers to drink as the number of letters they’d just used. They’d done away with the points, as both of them agreed that could get dangerous.

“Flamboyant!” Yuri said gleefully, finishing the word with a flourish. “That’s ten, Altin!”

Otabek groaned.

“Okay I sub two for truths and one for a dare,” Otabek said, not wanting to end up wasted.

They’d come up with the truth or dare subbing after one particularly messy game of scrabble, agreeing that if they didn’t want to do so many fingers they could substitute a truth or a dare.

“Okay,” Yuri said, rolling over onto his back where he’d been lying on the rug, Otabek cross legged opposite him. “Truth… truth, truth, truth… oo I know.”

He sat up quickly, grinning wickedly, and Otabek felt dread creep into him.

“What did you really think of that leopard print jumper that I bought?” Yuri asked, folding his legs as he gazed eagerly at Otabek.

“I thought it was god awful,” Otabek said easily, relieved by the question as he downed his seven fingers worth of drink.

“Offended, but okay,” Yuri said. “Okay, next question… hm…”

Yuri gazed out the window behind Otabek for a while, his lips pouty as he thought. Then his mouth fell open slightly, his eyes going wide. He glanced at Otabek then away again.

“What?” Otabek asked.

“Nothing,” Yuri said quickly, a flush rising to his cheeks.

“Come on tell me,” Otabek pressed, leaning over the board to nudge Yuri’s shoulder with his knuckles. “I won’t laugh.”

Yuri looked down, biting his lip, and Otabek suddenly wondered if he wanted to know what Yuri was really thinking. Yuri swallowed, and then looked up at him.

“What did you really want to do on that bridge?” he asked.

All the air dropped out of the room. Otabek felt his chest clench. He knew which bridge Yuri was talking about.

It had been a year ago. The pair of them had been walking through St Petersburg when Otabek had come over to visit from Kazakhstan. They’d just been out with Victor and Yuuri and ended up drinking quite a lot, and were walking back to Yuri’s grandfather’s apartment, who was quite seriously ill at the time.

They’d stopped on the crest of the bridge, and Yuri was looking out at the lights of St Petersburg, the wind making his eyes sparkle as he gazed out across the water. His arm was linked through Otabek’s in the cold wind, his cheeks rosy as he buried his face lower in his scarf.

“It’s beautiful isn’t it?” Yuri had said, gazing at the city.

“Yeah,” Otabek agreed, but he wasn’t looking at the city.

Yuri had turned, feeling Otabek’s eyes on him. He’d looked slightly surprised, but there’d also been an acceptance in his gaze.

“Beka,” he’d said, his voice quiet as he faced him fully.

He’d drawn very close to Otabek then, his eyes bright as they gazed into Otabek’s. And he’d leant forward slightly.

“I…” he’d started, eyelids becoming heavy.

And suddenly Otabek had realised how vulnerable he was. How Yuri was barely keeping his head above water, how ill his grandfather was, how desperately he was clinging to Otabek lately, even how many drinks he’d had at the bar.

So Otabek had stepped back. He’d coughed, looking away towards the river.

“We should get back, could catch a cold out here,” he’d said, avoiding Yuri’s gaze.

And the moment had been over. They’d never spoken of it since, although Yuri did keep him at a slight arm’s length for a little while afterwards. This was of course forgotten as soon as his grandfather was admitted to hospital permanently, Yuri calling Otabek sobbing, Otabek getting the first flight over, Yuri clinging to his arm, Yuri collapsing against his chest, Yuri needing him more than anything else in the world.

In the present they gazed at each other. It was silent except for the rain on the window. Yuri’s eyes were bright, and he looked apprehensive. Could that be right? Otabek thought to himself. Could Yuri really be worrying about Otabek’s answer? Could he possibly…?

But of course, he was only worried because Otabek might admit that he’d really, really wanted to kiss him. Or was he?

Otabek swallowed, and made up his mind.

“I wanted to kiss you,” Otabek said, his voice low and gravelly, carrying all the weight of his longing.

“How badly?” Yuri asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

And he didn’t look disgusted, wasn’t turning away from Otabek, wasn’t rejecting him. Instead his eyes were bright, and he was leaning forwards slightly. Did that mean…?

“More than anything in the world,” Otabek whispered back.

Scrabble tiles scattered as Yuri crawled forwards. He stopped, his face inches from Otabek’s, his breath playing over Otabek’s lips, green eyes hooded with something dark in them.

“Dare,” Yuri whispered, and Otabek shuddered as the word brushed over his skin. “Kiss me.”

And then Otabek was. Pushing forwards as he took Yuri’s face in his hands, pushed him back as he knelt up so they were both kneeling together, their bodies flush against each other. And Yuri melted at his touch, molten on his tongue as his body sagged. And he moaned into Otabek’s mouth as Otabek held him up to stop him collapsing to the floor, and Otabek couldn’t believe this was the effect he was having on Yuri, the man could barely stay upright.

And oh god his mouth was so good, gentle but desperate. Needy lips plush and full against Otabek’s, soft as the petal of a rose and just as pink. And Otabek buried his hands in Yuri’s hair, tilted his head back slightly so Yuri’s mouth fell open, accepting Otabek’s tongue with a whimper.

Otabek broke away then. Both of them were breathing heavily as they gazed at each other, Yuri still being held up by Otabek as he stared up at him.

“Beka…” Yuri sighed, and Otabek felt the word slip down his spine like a blessing.

“Yura, I,” Otabek started, looking away, forcing himself to be sensible, forcing himself not to give in to what he wanted.

“Beka, what is it?” Yuri asked, sounding concerned.

Otabek pushed him back, holding him at arm's length, both of them sinking back onto their heels. And he finally found the strength to look at him, to see the hurt on his face.

“You’re vulnerable right now,” Otabek said, dropping his hands into his lap. “It would be wrong for me to… y’know.”

“So you don’t want this?” Yuri asked, looking hurt.

“No, Yuri, it’s not that,” Otabek sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “You’re just feeling lonely because it’s Christmas and usually your grandfather’s here, but this year it’s just me.”

Yuri flinched at the mention of his grandfather, but quickly skated over it.

“For fuck’s sake, Beka,” Yuri huffed in irritation. “When are you going to realise that I’ve been in love with you since I was fifteen years old?”

Silence.

Otabek stared at Yuri in disbelief, and Yuri broke into a lopsided smile at the look on Otabek’s face. He reached up and cupped one of Otabek’s cheeks in his hand, his thumb smoothing over Otabek’s cheekbone.

“You…?”

“Love you?” Yuri finished for him, his smile breaking into a grin. “Yes.”

“Yuri,” Otabek breathed, and then he was flinging himself at Yuri, and both of them were falling back onto the rug.

“Oof,” Yuri huffed as all of Otabek’s weight landed on him.

“Sorry, sorry,” Otabek said quickly, moving to support himself over Yuri. “I got carried away.”

“That's okay,” Yuri said, smiling up at him.

“I love you too, Yura,” Otabek whispered, gazing into Yuri's eyes, brown on green.

“You do?” Yuri whispered, surprise on his face as though he couldn't quite believe it.

“More than anything,” Otabek nodded.

And then he kissed him again. He could feel the curve of Yuri's smile against his mouth, and Yuri’s hands came up to tangle themselves in his hair. It was perfect. Or it would have been if not for…

“Yuri are you crying?”

Otabek leant back from the kiss, slightly horrified as Yuri hiccuped and wiped tears from his face.

“Yes,” Yuri said shakily.

“We can stop, we can—”

Otabek went to climb off Yuri but Yuri stopped him.

“No, Beka, I'm fine,” Yuri assured him, gripping his arm to hold him in place. “I'm just… insanely happy.”

“Really?” Otabek asked, a smile breaking out across his face.

“Really,” Yuri said, and drew him back down to meet his lips.

The kiss was soft, but full of need, carrying all the weight of their love as their mouths moved together. They were pressed impossibly close, until Otabek wasn't sure where he ended and Yuri began.

Yuri tasted of vodka, and mint, and honey, plus another taste that was just Yuri, his mouth, his tongue, his sighs. Yuri’s legs parted further, and Otabek sank between them. Yuri moaned into his mouth as their crotches were pushed together, and Otabek decided it was the hottest noise he'd ever heard.

He rolled his hips experimentally. Yuri’s whole body twitched and jerked.

“Beka,” he sighed against his mouth. “More.”

Otabek obliged, rolling his hips again, and now he could feel Yuri getting hard, and Jesus Christ that was so fucking hot.

The noise of a key in a lock and then the door opening. Yuri and Otabek looked up, partly concealed by the counter but still very visible.

“Yuri do you have — oh my.”

Victor was standing in the doorway, frozen in the process of pulling his keys from the door.

“Victor, don't just — oh my.”

Yuuri appeared behind Victor, apparently in the process of telling his husband off for letting himself into Yuri's apartment without even knocking.

Otabek and Yuri scrambled apart.

“Finally!” Victor exclaimed gleefully, a broad smile breaking across his face as he abandoned the keys and took two steps forwards.

Otabek and Yuri looked at him in surprise, Yuri with a bit more anger in his glare than Otabek.

“Victor I gave you that key for emergencies only,” Yuri snapped, looking furious.

“I need to borrow your cat ears,” Victor shrugged, still looking gleeful as Yuuri shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other behind him, twisting his scarf nervously between his hands.

“This isn't for some weird sex thing between you and Katsudon is it?” Yuri asked not looking pleased.

“If anyone’s doing weird sex stuff it's you and—”

“Get out!”

Victor flashed one last grin at the pair of them, before sweeping out of the door, a very apologetic looking Yuri in his wake. The door slammed.

Otabek and Yuri stared at each other. Then they broke out into laughter. They laughed until they cried, sinking to the floor as they clutched their stomachs. Eventually they managed to stop, a task made more difficult by the fact that every time they looked at each other they'd break into laughter again.

“Well that was a boner kill,” Otabek said, wiping his eyes, still grinning. “Leave it to Victor fucking Nikiforov.”

“Mmm,” Yuri hummed dragging himself across the floor so they were laying side by side, both of them facing inwards. “Is that so?”

He reached out and cupped Otabek’s package, making Otabek grunt in surprise.

“Because it seems to me like you might still have a little something going on,” he murmured, drawing forwards so his words played across Otabek's lips.

“Yura—” Otabek started shakily, before he was cut off by his own moan as Yuri started to rub him through his jeans.

Yuri pushed him onto his back, propping himself up on one elbow so he could watch Otabek come to pieces.

“Yura,” Otabek panted desperately, struggling to think straight as Yuri’s hand pressed into him. “You don't… have to… ohhh…”

“But I want to,” Yuri purred, leaning in to brush his lips over Otabek’s cheekbone. “I love seeing you come apart like this… all that control… just gone… in fact… I'd like to see more… I'd like you inside me…”

Otabek's eyes snapped to Yuri then, his words bringing Otabek to his senses. He pushed Yuri's hand away, also propping himself up on one elbow as he fixed Yuri with a serious look.

“Yuri we've only just found out how we really feel about each other, don't you think we should wait?” Otabek asked, his point somewhat derailed by his flushed cheeks and mused hair.

“After we've been waiting for so long?” Yuri returned, before looking unsure. “Unless it's because you want to wait, in which case we will, but if you're suggesting we wait because I haven't got much experience or something...”

Otabek knew Yuri wasn't a virgin. Yuri had had a one night stand two years ago, if that's what it could be called. Otabek had a darker word for it. It was during a competition, and Otabek had gone to his hotel room after Yuri hadn't answered any of his calls. When Yuri had finally opened the door after Otabek had been banging on it for five minutes, it had been with a blotchy, tear streaked face.

“What's wrong?” Otabek had asked, all the anger at Yuri not answering the door draining out of him. “Who hurt you?”

Otabek had had the sudden urge to strangle whoever had made Yuri cry like this.

“No one,” Yuri had said, hiccuping slightly.

“Well then what happened?” Otabek had asked.

Yuri had sighed and turned away, walking back into the room. Otabek had followed, closing the door behind him. Yuri had sunk onto the bed and curled into a ball, his back to Otabek. The room had been dimly lit, only a little lamp on the side table giving it light. Otabek settled himself on the bed, waiting.

“I lost my virginity last night,” Yuri whispered eventually.

“Oh, um…” Otabek had started, not really sure what to say.

He'd felt a burning jealousy for the man who'd taken Yuri's virginity. And then a horrible thought had occurred to him. He'd grabbed Yuri's shoulder and forced him to roll over.

“Did he force himself on you?” Otabek had asked, his voice shaking with anger, panic in his eyes.

“No,” Yuri said, not looking at Otabek.

“Oh,” Otabek had said, releasing Yuri's shoulder with a sigh of relief. “Well what then?”

“I was drunk,” Yuri said, fresh tears falling into his hairline as he stared at the ceiling. “I don't remember any of it, well flashes, but mostly nothing.”

Otabek felt his heart clench and suddenly the anger was coursing through him stronger than ever.

“Yuri that's still non consensual sex,” Otabek had said, his fists clenching as he thought about what he'd like to do to the man who'd done this to Yuri. “If you were too drunk to say yes then it's non consensual.”

Yuri simply shrugged, still staring at the ceiling.

“Maybe that's why I feel like shit then,” he'd said, and his lip had wobbled, and then he was sobbing, and Otabek was pulling him into his chest.

They'd lain like that for ages. Yuri's sobs eventually faded. Otabek had asked if Yuri wanted to go to the police, but Yuri had shaken his head, saying that he'd never get a conviction, what with him agreeing to go back to the guy’s house and having been too drunk to remember much.

Otabek had known that, but he'd still wanted to offer.

Yuri had eventually recovered from the encounter, but it had taken time. It had been over a month before he'd smiled again.

Yeah, Yuri Plisetsky had had a pretty awful couple of years.

And now he was asking Otabek to come to bed, when they'd had drinks.

“Yuri…”

“Otabek I want this,” Yuri said firmly, fixing him with a hard look.

“But we've been drinking,” Otabek protested.

“I only had one shot in mine,” Yuri admitted. “I didn't want to be the one who was a complete mess like always, so I put less in mine.”

“You did?” Otabek asked, surprised.

Yuri nodded, looking slightly ashamed of himself.

“I never get to see you drunk as I'm always off my face,” Yuri said, fiddling with the hem of his sweater. “So I gave myself less, I wasn't gonna let you get too bad, I just wanted to see you a little drunk.”

“You're awful,” Otabek said with a grin, suddenly very glad that they'd stopped drinking when he was only tipsy.

“I know, sorry,” Yuri said, a bashful smile on his face as he peeked up at Otabek through his hair. “But hey it didn't happen so it's fine.”

“Hm, I suppose,” Otabek agreed, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“So what do you say?” Yuri asked, looking nervous.

There was a pause as Otabek considered his answer.

“Okay, but we're going slow,” Otabek said, fixing Yuri with a stern look. “And we’re to stop if you feel at all uncomfortable, even if it's only a little bit.”

“How could I be uncomfortable with you, Beka?” Yuri asked, placing a hand on his chest with a little smile.

Otabek felt himself melt as he gazed into those green eyes, but he forced himself to stay focused.

“I mean it, Yuri,” he said.

“Okay I promise,” Yuri agreed with a sigh.

“Good,” Otabek said, before standing and pulling Yuri to his feet.

“Now,” he said, before bending and sweeping Yuri off his feet.

Yuri fell into his arms with a yelp, one of Otabek's arms under his knees, the other curled around his back. Otabek smiled down at him as he turned and carried him through the door in the bookshelf, down the corridor and into his bedroom.

Yuri’s bedroom was a wonderful expression of himself, all blacks, and reds, and leopard prints. Otabek placed him down gently on the leopard print duvet.

Then he settled himself over him, pressing his mouth to Yuri's. Yuri hummed happily into the kiss.

The rain pattered on the window, the room dark except for the yellow light from a streetlight outside, which fell across the bed. It was perfect.

Otabek knelt up. And he just looked at Yuri for a moment; his golden hair pooled around his head, his creamy pale skin perfect in the light from the window, freckled with the shadow of the raindrops on the pane, his green eyes hooded with lust, his mouth slightly open.

He was stunning. And then…

“Beka… you're beautiful,” Yuri whispered, gazing up at him, one hand reaching up to touch his hip where he knelt between Yuri’s thighs.

Otabek's heart soared as he blushed.

“I'm not as beautiful as you,” he mumbled, looking away, embarrassed.

Yuri leant up and pulled Otabek into a kiss.

“Don't be silly,” he whispered against his mouth. “Now for god's sake fuck me.”

Otabek grinned. There was his Yuri.

Otabek pushed him back, their lips moulding to each other's. Otabek laid featherlight kisses down Yuri's jaw, more breath than lips. Yuri was quickly a panting mess. Otabek eased his sweater off, and Yuri fell back on the bed. Otabek gazed at him for a moment, at all the lovely skin, before he remembered what he was doing.

His lips laid the softest of kisses down Yuri’s shoulder, along his arm, until he reached the inside of his wrist. There he closed his eyes as he pressed his lips to Yuri's pulse. He opened his eyes and saw Yuri watching him, looking equally turned on and emotional at this display.

This is exactly what Otabek wanted. Yuri to come to pieces, to be touched how he should have been when he'd lost his virginity, to be treasured, to be valued, to be loved more than anything else. Otabek leant forwards and latched his mouth onto the bare skin of Yuri's chest. Yuri's hands came up and tangled themselves in Otabek's hair as he kissed and nibbled his way down Yuri's chest, tasting each exquisite bit of skin.

Yuri sighed, humming with pleasure every now and then so Otabek came to learn his sensitive spots; namely his nipples, his bottom rib, and the curve of his hipbone.

Very slowly, giving Yuri plenty of opportunity to stop him, Otabek drew his leggings off. Yuri let him, his slim hips rising up off the mattress before falling again. His socks came off with the leggings and then Yuri was just in his boxers.

“I'm somewhat at a disadvantage,” Yuri pointed out, and he leant up to tug at Otabek’s top.

Otabek obliged, dragging the long sleeved top over his head and tossing it to the side. Yuri let out a little whimper as he drunk in the sight of Otabek's torso. He reached out and placed a hand on the firm muscles of Otabek's stomach. Yuri's height was exaggerated by his slender limbs, but Otabek was only half an inch shorter than him. But he was definitely the larger of the two in every other way; his chest and shoulders broad, well defined muscles on his arms, legs, and pretty much everywhere else.

Yuri bit his lip and leant forwards to place a sloppy, open mouthed kiss to Otabek's stomach. Otabek shuddered.

Then Yuri got to work on his flies, and a moment later Otabek was tossing his jeans to the side.

“Can I?” Yuri asked, his index finger hooking into the band of Otabek's boxers.

Otabek nodded. Yuri drew them down. He gasped.

“Er, yeah, it's, um,” Otabek said awkwardly.

“It's huge,” Yuri finished for him, gazing at the cock that was pretty much eye level with him.

“Well…”

“Don't be modest, Beka, you're hung like a fucking horse,” Yuri said simply, before taking said cock into his hand.

Otabek gasped, reaching out to grip Yuri's shoulder. Yuri grinned up at him, his hand circling his length as he rubbed it slowly.

“Yuri,” Otabek said in a choked voice.

“Yes?” Yuri asked innocently, mischief glinting in his eyes.

Otabek let out a growl and pushed Yuri back onto the bed. He kissed him fiercely, Yuri humming into the kiss in approval. But then he slowed again, but Yuri enjoyed that too, because their hips were rolling together, and it was so painfully good. Otabek could feel the ache of it in his stomach, and Yuri was coming apart beneath him, his breathing jagged, his eyes rolling back and his mouth falling open as he clutched desperately at Otabek’s shoulder blades.

“Beka,” he pleaded. “I need… mphf… fingers.”

“Do you have…?” Otabek asked awkwardly, stopping his grinding.

“Oh, um, yes,” Yuri said, managing to get himself together as he flushed scarlet.

Then he wriggled out from beneath Otabek and rolled over to reach the side table drawer, giving Otabek a very nice view of his ass. And Otabek felt guilty for looking for a moment, before he realised that he was allowed to look now.

Yuri rolled back over, bottle of lube in hand.

“And why would you have that, my little Yuratchka?” Otabek asked, cocking an eyebrow as he smirked at Yuri, who was blushing and looking everywhere but at Otabek.

“Oh, well, um,” he stuttered. “I had hoped, that maybe one day, we’d… be here… doing this… so I bought it.”

“Huh,” Otabek said, still smirking as he leant over Yuri and pressed a kiss to his mouth. “Good thing you did then, isn't it?”

Yuri finally looked at him, nodding shyly and looking very young for a moment. Otabek kissed him again, trying to convey all his love, trying to make this as special for Yuri as his first time should have been. He took the lube from Yuri's trembling fingers before leaning back to ease Yuri's boxers off. He hummed in appreciation.

Yuri was a good size, big, not as big as him, but that was hardly surprising. He'd seen Yuri naked before, in a less happy situation. He slicked two of his fingers and lowered himself so his breath played over Yuri's cock. Yuri whimpered, his eyes meeting Otabek's as the older man gazed lovingly down at him. He placed a finger against his entrance at the same time as he placed his lips on Yuri’s tip. Yuri shuddered.

Then Otabek sunk down. His mouth enveloped Yuri at the same time as his finger slid inside him. Yuri's walls clenched around him, but with a few gentle rubs he relaxed, sighing into it as he tangled his hands in Otabek's hair.

Otabek swallowed Yuri down to the hilt at the same moment as he found his prostate. Yuri let out a choked cry, his back arching slightly as he released Otabek's hair so as not to pull it, gripping the bed sheets instead. Otabek rolled his tongue along the underside of Yuri’s cock as he moved up and then back down, rubbing at that spot inside him over and over. It felt so good to finally taste Yuri, to feel him throbbing in his mouth, to see him come apart, to hear him moan his name.

“Beka,” Yuri gasped, tugging gently at Otabek's hair. “Beka I'm ready.”

Otabek released his cock, letting it fall, wet and heavy onto his stomach. Then he leant over Yuri, watching his face as his fingers fucked into him.

“Hm, no,” Otabek replied, his long fingers still working Yuri open, making him writhe. “We’re going to do this right. I'm big, Yuri, as you said.”

Yuri whimpered in response. Yes, Otabek was going to make sure Yuri was properly prepared. He didn't want to hurt Yuri, he deserved to be taken care of properly.

He'd seen the blood after Yuri's first time. Yuri had been embarrassed, but Otabek had hushed him, helping him out of him clothes and into a bath. Yuri had let him wash his hair, had relaxed under his touch even though the water had turned a light pink around him.

Otabek was finally getting to right some of the wrongs, was finally able to show Yuri what making love was. He couldn't undo what had happened to Yuri, and he wasn't arrogant enough to think that he might be able to, but he could do this. He could be gentle with Yuri, he could make him feel good, whilst also making him feel loved. He could show him what real affection looked like, and replace harsh hands with soft touches.

A little while later and Yuri was begging him. Otabek finally gave in, and removed his fingers. He lined himself up. One of his hands found Yuri’s and their eyes met.

“I love you,” Otabek said, and then he was inside him.

Yuri gripped his hand tightly and his face pinched for a moment, but then it smoothed out, his eyes falling shut.

“Yes, Beka,” Yuri sighed, and Otabek finally allowed himself to let out a groan of pleasure.

Yuri was so tight, the pressure of him almost unbearable. He carefully pulled back, watching Yuri for any signs of discomfort, before sinking back in.

“Oh,” Yuri gasped, his face pinching in pleasure. “Oh god.”

Otabek started to roll his hips slowly, Yuri's responding as he pressed into that wonderful spot that made Yuri jerk and twitch. Yuri's eyes found Otabek's. He gazed up at him, his green eyes full of adoration, and Otabek felt like he would choke on it, it was too much. Yuri reached up with both hands and cupped Otabek's jaw between his palms, his own head falling to the side as their hips rolled together, his legs lowering themselves from around Otabek's waist so he could place them firmly on the bed, meeting the roll of Otabek’s hips with his own.

“Yuri,” Otabek gasped out, his arms shaking slightly where they supported him as something coiled in his stomach.

And Yuri's face was wet with tears. Otabek would've been concerned, but Yuri was smiling, whispering that he was okay, that he was just so happy, that he loved being this close to Otabek.

Yuri eventually managed to stop crying. When he did he rolled them over. Otabek gripped him tightly as he moved back to sit up against the pillows. Then Yuri was slowly rising and falling, their pace still languid, tender.

The rain continued to patter on the window as Yuri rose and fell in Otabek’s lap, his hands on either side of Otabek's face as Otabek rested his own hands on Yuri's hips. Yuri felt ridiculously good around him, his walls tightening every now and then. And he looked amazing like this, hair swept over to one side and bathed in the glow of the street light, his lithe body gorgeous as it worked on taking Otabek apart.

Yuri ran his thumb over Otabek's bottom lip, his brow pinching and his own mouth falling open as he gazed at Otabek's mouth as he sucked Yuri’s thumb into it. Yuri drew his thumb out, dragging Otabek's bottom lip down as he went. And that was it.

Otabek improved his grip on Yuri's hips and pulled him up slightly. Yuri looked confused as Otabek rearranged them so he was laying down flat on the bed beneath Yuri. Then Otabek gripped Yuri’s hips, pulling him up slightly, and he drove his own up into them.

Yuri let out a strangled cry as he threw his head back, one hand scrabbling at Otabek’s chest. Otabek did it again, and Yuri went limp with pleasure.

Otabek caught him, rearranging them again so he was kneeling now, Yuri still in his lap. With his arms curled up around Yuri's back to steady him as he went floppy and pliant, Otabek started fucking up into him.

Yuri let out a string of curse words, keening and moaning and begging and practically sobbing Otabek's name as the older man plowed into him, rocking his slender frame with every thrust.

Then Otabek pushed Yuri back, and set to work fucking him into the mattress. Yuri was a mess, practically screaming as his eyes rolled back and his limbs flopped uselessly with Otabek's thrusts.

Then Otabek gripped his cock. It only took a few pumps before Yuri was coming. He screamed Otabek’s name, and Otabek let out a garbled mess of Kazakh as he too came. They rode it out, their eyes finding each other's, Yuri with some difficulty as he seemed to be having a hard time keeping it together through his orgasm.

Eventually Otabek’s hips stuttered and came to a stop. Very carefully, he drew out of Yuri. He reached over to the side table; drawing out a box of tissues.

He wiped Yuri down carefully, taking his time until Yuri groaned and pulled him down into an embrace. They lay there, breathing heavily, Otabek's head on Yuri’s shoulder as Yuri played with his hair with one hand, and drew lazy circles on his back with the other.

The rain drummed on the window.

“That was perfect,” Yuri said after a while. “Thank you.”

“No thank you,” Otabek said, turning his head to kiss Yuri's bare chest. “You have no idea how much I've been wanting to do that.”

“Oh I can imagine,” Yuri said, a smile in his voice.

Eventually they got cold and climbed under the covers.

“Night, Beka,” Yuri mumbled, snuggling into Otabek’s chest and tucking his head under Otabek's chin. He placed a gentle kiss on his collarbone, making the older man smile.

“Goodnight, Yura,” Otabek returned, kissing the top of Yuri's head.

And they slipped into sleep, the sound of rain and each other's beating hearts the best lullaby.


	4. Mouthful of Daddy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Rolls up in my Chariot of Sin and dropkicks you into the Daddybek void*
> 
> THE TIME IS HERE KIDS. DADDYBEK 2K17.

Yuri was desperate.

 

The sunlight was falling across the white sheets of his and Otabek’s bed as he pushed his hips down into the mattress, groaning with need. Otabek had been gone all day, and Yuri was hungry for him. He’d even gotten into lingerie. The gauzy pink panties had ridden up between his cheeks, the white stockings looking very good on his smooth legs if he did say so himself. The transparent, short pink robe, which matched the panties, was open at the front, the tie hanging loose as he gripped handfuls of the bed sheets.

 

Yuri finally gave in. He reached across to the side table and retrieved his phone. He knew he’d be in trouble for this, Otabek had specifically told him he had errands that needed doing that day. But Yuri couldn’t wait.

 

He rolled over, his waist length, golden hair falling in a pool around his head as he held the phone up. He snapped a picture on snapchat, bottom lip between his teeth, sexy robe visible and cheeks slightly flushed.

 

 _‘I miss you’_ he captioned it, before sending it to Otabek.

 

Then he let his hand flop down, waiting. A minute later his phone buzzed. A text

 

Yuri rolled over, unable to suppress the smirk as he opened the text.

 

 _‘You’re a very bad kitten, Yura,’_ the text read. Yuri groaned, grinning to himself as he imagined Otabek in a state as he stood in the grocery store, or the garage, or wherever he was.

 

 _‘I need you, daddy,’_ he wrote, and pressed send, knowing calling Otabek daddy would have the older man gasping for him.

 

They’d first discovered Yuri’s daddy kink in a hotel room. He’d just been very rude at dinner, telling Victor to go fuck himself, even though Yuri still maintained that Victor deserved it and wasn’t offended by anything unless it was about his precious Yuuri. But Otabek had taken him back up to the room, and instructed that Yuri sit on the bed.

 

Yuri had obliged, already needy and gasping at Otabek’s stern voice. Otabek had stood over him, his hand buried in the hair at the nape of Yuri’s neck as he gently tugged it back, forcing Yuri to look up at him.

 

“That was bad, Yura,” Otabek had murmured, pushing his thumb into Yuri’s mouth, making Yuri moan as he sucked on it. “You need to be punished.”

 

He’d given Yuri’s hair a little tug, and Yuri had gasped.

 

“Daddy.”

 

The word hung between them, Yuri’s face flushing as Otabek stared down at him in surprise. Then Otabek had bent down, his lips very close to Yuri’s as he spoke.

 

“Daddy wants to hear his kitten moan, alright kotenok?”

 

And Yuri had moaned, and Otabek had fucked him so hard that he’d seen stars, gasping daddy over and over as Otabek was rough with him without really hurting him. And now Yuri regularly called Otabek daddy, which would always have Otabek groaning and swiftly taking Yuri. Even the times in which they were tender and gentle with each other, Yuri still called Otabek daddy. Sometimes he’d cry during these times, because the intimacy was just too much, and Otabek would purr praise into his ear, kiss the tears from his cheeks as he told him he was beautiful.

 

And that’s how Yuri had ended up writhing and desperate on a Saturday in spring as Otabek went about his errands.

 

 _‘I told you I had errands to run, kitten,’_ the next text read. _‘Why are you misbehaving?’_

 

Yuri grinned, closing his eyes for a moment as he imagined Otabek’s stern face, imagined testing Otabek’s patience, imagined Otabek punishing him.

 

 _‘Because I’m desperate to have you inside me,’_ Yuri typed out. _‘Because I need your cock inside me so bad, daddy. I’m already hard thinking about you, I might ruin these panties before you even get here.’_

 

Otabek’s response was quick.

 

 _‘You shall do no such thing,’_ it said, and Yuri could hear the stern voice that Otabek would have said it in and groaned to himself. _‘You are not to touch yourself at all until I’m home. Is that understood?’_

 

 _‘Yes, daddy,’_ Yuri replied.

 

Then Otabek went silent and Yuri grinned to himself as he thought about Otabek scrambling to get back to his bike and home to Yuri.

 

Fifteen minutes later and there were keys scraping in the lock out in the hallway. Yuri moved into a kneeling position, facing the door, his robe open, his cock getting hard in anticipation.

 

Otabek came into the room a moment later, windswept and rosy cheeked from his motorbike ride home. He spotted Yuri on the bed and bit his lip, his brow furrowing with desire.

 

“Hey daddy,” Yuri purred, and crawled forwards on the bed, his back curved suggestively as his shoulders rolled with the slow crawl. “I missed you.”

 

“Yura…” Otabek sighed, shedding his jacket and boots and leaving them abandoned.

 

He kept his fingerless biking gloves on, the leather cool against Yuri’s skin as Otabek tilted his chin up. Otabek looked amazing. His hair still had an undercut but he’d let the top and back grow out like a long mohawk, wearing it in a bun at the back. His dark grey t-shirt was loose, but just tight enough across the shoulders and chest so Yuri could see his well defined muscles.

 

“Kneel,” Otabek instructed, and Yuri did so, biting his lip as he gazed up at Otabek.

 

They were the complete opposite in build. Yuri was all legs and arms, very slim, his height exaggerated by his skinniness. Otabek was broad in the chest and shoulders, a solid block of muscle with a ridiculous shoulder to waist ratio that made Yuri dizzy. He loved that even though he was taller than Otabek he had no chance of lifting him, whereas Otabek regularly swept him into his arms or flung him over his shoulder in a fireman's lift, making Yuri shriek with delight.

 

Now Otabek was slowly removing his gloves, his dark eyes full of hunger as they drank Yuri in in the lingerie. He dragged his t-shirt off and Yuri whimpered, his eyes lingering on Otabek’s firm chest, his beautifully sculpted abs, the dip of the V between his hipbones. He’d always been tanned, the darkness to Yuri’s light. Tattoos swirled up one of Otabek’s biceps. Usually Yuri hated tribal tattoos, as they reminded his of roided out dickheads, but Otabek’s were gorgeous, strong but delicate in their intricate design. He also had a small plug in one of his ears, a ring circling the top of the other.

 

Yuri found that it all made him ridiculously hot for the man, and he’d gradually started wearing more pastel colours, liking the way his fairness looked with Otabek’s darkness.

 

“Did you buy more lingerie, kitten?” Otabek asked, raising an eyebrow at the panties, stockings, and robe, but still looking very pleased by them.

 

“Yes, daddy,” Yuri purred, his fingers trailing down the edges of the robe, pushing it slightly further apart to expose his pale chest. Otabek bit his lip.

 

“That was bad, kitten,” Otabek scolded. “You know only daddy’s supposed to buy you lingerie.”

 

“Yes, daddy,” Yuri agreed, looking apologetic as he bit his lip and gave Otabek his best wide, innocent eyes.

 

“And then you go and interrupt me, when I specifically told you I had errands to run,” Otabek continued, undoing his jeans and pushing them down before kicking them off along with his socks.

 

“Sorry, daddy,” Yuri said, nibbling his thumb nail as he blinked up at Otabek.

 

“Stop that,” Otabek said, reaching forwards and knocking Yuri’s hand away from his mouth.

 

Yuri caught his hand and laced their fingers together, and Otabek raised an eyebrow at him.

 

“Please, daddy?” Yuri begged, pouting slightly as he gazed up at Otabek.

 

“Hm…” Otabek hummed, considering Yuri, although he was clearly desperate for it too, his cock already half hard in his white Calvin Kliens.

 

“I’ll be good,” Yuri promised, and he released Otabek’s hand, crawling around so he was side on from Otabek, curving his back so Otabek could see how pretty his ass looked in the panties.

 

Otabek groaned, and finally climbed on the bed. He pulled him round, flipped him over and kissed him hard, Yuri moaning into the kiss. He rolled his hips down into Yuri’s, and Yuri gasped at the contact. Otabek continued to grind down into him until they were both fully hard and Yuri was a gabbling mess, switching between English and Russian as his eyes rolled back and he clutched Otabek’s shoulder blades.

 

Then Otabek knelt up. He pushed his boxers down, and Yuri eagerly sat up, his eyes on Otabek’s cock. He loved how big Otabek was, was a complete whore for his size.

 

“Suck,” Otabek instructed.

 

And Yuri obliged. Otabek groaned and fisted a handful of Yuri’s hair. He fucked slowly into Yuri’s mouth, not pushing too far but knowing that the younger man loved having his mouth abused. Yuri sucked happily, rolling his tongue over the underside of Otabek’s cock as Otabek’s hips thrust repeatedly into his mouth.

 

“Now,” Otabek said, his hips drawing back so he fell out of Yuri’s mouth, who gazed at his cock, clearly disappointed. “You’re going to prepare yourself for daddy.”

 

Yuri’s eyes snapped up to his. He nodded eagerly and scrambled to get the lube from the side table drawer. He found the bottle, which was running low. They went through lube at a rate of knots. He lay back to allow Otabek to drag his panties off, biting his lip as he was exposed. He slicked his fingers and then knelt up, reaching back to slide a finger into his entrance.

 

Yuri let out a moan. Otabek bit his lip, and took Yuri’s shoulders, guiding him to turn around so Otabek could watch him fuck himself.

 

“Daddy,” Yuri gasped, gripping the headboard as he sank down onto his own finger.

 

“Mm… good, kitten,” Otabek murmured from behind him, as he swept Yuri’s hair to one side, his lips brushing over that sensitive bit of skin at the base of his neck and making him shudder. “But I think you still need punishing.”

 

Yuri whimpered.

 

“Please punish me, daddy,” Yuri begged, eyes desperate at he looked over his shoulder at Otabek.

 

“Well I can’t punish you if you want it, kitten,” Otabek reasoned, leaning back to watch Yuri finger himself. “That would defeat the purpose.”

 

“Oh yeah?” Yuri asked with a smirk, knowing he’d have to do something bad in order to get what he wanted. “You couldn’t punish me anyway, you’re too soft.”

 

The smack on his ass cheek made Yuri let out a cry of pleasure and surprise, his voice high and reedy.

 

“What was that, Yura?” Otabek growled, grabbing a handful of his ass where he’d just smacked it.

 

“You heard me,” Yuri returned, pushing a second finger into himself. “Daddy couldn’t even last long enough to give his kitten a proper fucking.”

 

Otabek sank his teeth into Yuri’s shoulder making him cry out again.

 

“Stay,” Otabek said harshly, before climbing off the bed.

 

Yuri purposely ignored this, removing his fingers to follow Otabek across the room to the cupboard.

 

“Where’re you going?” he taunted. “Are you going to tug one out in the bathroom? Too much for you in here?”

 

Otabek fished something out of the cupboard and turned back to him. Yuri’s knees went weak when he saw what Otabek had retrieved. A long silk scarf.

 

“Bed. Now. And take that robe off, leave the socks.”

 

Yuri was obedient now, practically shaking as he went back over to the bed, the robe slipping off his shoulders and pooling on the floor before he lay down. Otabek followed him. He crawled over Yuri, smacking the hands away that came up to touch his chest.

 

“No touching,” Otabek said sternly. “Now.” He grabbed both of Yuri’s hands and used the scarf to tie Yuri’s hands to the bed frame.

 

Yuri struggled slightly, liking the way Otabek would scold him and tug his hands back into place. Then he was bound tightly by the wrists. Otabek had done a good job, the binds were too tight for him to escape from, but he’d left a gap between his wrists and the headboard so he could turn Yuri over if he wanted to.

 

Otabek slicked up his fingers, Yuri’s chest rising and falling rapidly as he watched him. Then Otabek reached between his cheeks.

 

“Daddy!” Yuri cried out as Otabek sunk his first finger into him.

 

Otabek quickly added a second, and started to fuck his long fingers into him, hard and fast. Yuri keened and writhed, his back arching as he strained against the ties, eager to get Otabek’s fingers deeper inside him. Otabek flipped him over and returned his fingers to Yuri’s hole. Yuri cursed in Russian as he arched his back to get closer to Otabek’s hand.

 

Otabek pushed him down roughly, and Yuri fell onto the bed, body shaking and limbs jerking. Then Otabek was climbing over him, his long fingers still fucking hard into Yuri’s needy hole.

 

“You’ve been so very bad, kitten,” Otabek murmured, the low timbre of his voice sending a thrill down Yuri’s spine.

 

“Yes, Daddy,” Yuri whimpered, gasping for breath as Otabek’s skilled fingers took him apart.

 

“I’m going to fuck you until you can’t walk straight, do you understand?”

 

“Yes, Daddy,” Yuri repeated, eyes scrunching shut and mouth falling open.

 

And then Otabek’s fingers were gone, and Yuri was moaning in need, his hips rocking down into the mattress, trying desperately to get some sort of friction.

 

“Stop that,” Otabek’s harsh voice said, and there was a loud smack as Otabek slapped Yuri’s arse.

 

Yuri’s breath caught in his throat and he almost came right then.

 

“Daddy… I need… I need you,” Yuri whined, looking over his shoulder pleadingly at Otabek.

 

Otabek bit his lip, clearly tested by Yuri’s begging. But then his face hardened and he crawled over Yuri, slicking up his cock with lube as he did.

 

“You can’t have it unless you’re a good kitten for daddy, understand?” Otabek murmured against Yuri’s shoulder, goosebumps breaking out over Yuri’s skin wherever Otabek’s lips touched.

 

“Yes, Daddy,” Yuri said breathily. “I’ll be good now, I promise, daddy. I’ll be a good kitten. I’ll make you feel good, and I’m so tight daddy, you’ll fill me up so good. I need you... please, daddy.”

 

Otabek hummed in approval, and then his tip was against Yuri’s entrance. Yuri cried out when Otabek finally sunk into him. Otabek started out slow, letting Yuri’s walls relax, but when Yuri was keening and pushing his hips back for more, Otabek leant back and gripped the headboard.

 

Yuri felt as though he’d fall apart as Otabek fucked him into the mattress. He gripped the cloth of the scarf desperately, whimpers and moans falling from his lips.

 

“Ohh… Daddy… oh fuck, daddy!” Yuri groaned, his eyes screwed shut.

 

Otabek felt so good inside him, the stretch and the pressure and the way he kept hitting his prostate. The friction of being pushed into the bed was almost too much combined with Otabek’s thrusts. After pounding him in that position for a while, reducing Yuri to a quivering mess, Otabek pulled out.

 

“Wha—? Ohh,” Yuri cut himself off as Otabek flipped him over and sunk back into him.

 

Now he could see Otabek’s face; the little line that had appeared between his brows, how his lips had parted slightly, the bunch of his shoulders as he gripped the headboard with one hand, and the back of Yuri’s thigh with the other. He felt a swell of love for him.

 

“Kiss me,” Yuri whispered, and Otabek slowed his thrusts.

 

His hand slipped of the headboard, coming to cup Yuri’s cheek instead. And he fixed that intense gaze on Yuri, the one that made him feel like he was being x-rayed, the one that made him feel seen. He kissed him, long and tender. And the roll of his hips was slow now. Yuri whimpered into his mouth, the slow sex just as good as the rough, so good it was almost painful. He planted his feet on the mattress and used the leverage to roll his hips with Otabek’s.

 

They were panting into each other’s mouth, their foreheads pressed together. Otabek tugged at the scarf and Yuri’s hands came free. Otabek tangled their hands together and Yuri squeezed as something coiled inside him. He felt the tears come as Otabek gazed down at him, absolute adoration in his eyes.

 

“Fuck,” Yuri mumbled, annoyed at himself. “Why do I always do this?”

 

Otabek chuckled, not stopping his slow thrusts as he kissed Yuri’s tears. Yuri’s breath caught in his throat.

 

“It’s alright, kitten,” Otabek murmured. “I’m here.”

 

“Daddy,” Yuri sighed, and this time all the wanton lust had gone from the word. There was need, certainly, desire, yes. But there was more love than anything else.

 

“I’ve got you, kitten,” Otabek whispered, placing a kiss on his cheek, and it was so painfully intimate that Yuri felt a fresh wave of tears well up.

 

He came like that, Otabek slowly thrusting into him, their hands entwined, his back arched, and Otabek’s name on his lips. His walls clamped down around Otabek and the older man shuddered as he came with a sigh of “Yura”. They didn’t stop until both of their orgasms had died.

 

When they did Otabek wrapped his arms around Yuri, tucking his face into his neck, still inside him. Yuri folded his arms around Otabek’s shoulders, one hand cradling the back of his head.

 

“Mmm… you always fuck me so good,” Yuri hummed, his body feeling heavy and sleepy.

 

“That’s what I’m here for,” Otabek said, his voice muffled from where his face was buried in Yuri’s neck. “That and hair stroking and foot rubs.”

 

Yuri laughed, wonderfully in love with the man on top of him. He could feel the curve of Otabek’s smile against his neck.

  
They’d have to get up soon, go about their day. But for the moment they were happy to lay there, in love and complete with each other.


	5. Mouthful of Longing

You know that sick feeling of rejection? The gut twisting, heart wrenching awfulness that washes over you, along with the wish for the world to stop spinning so fast because the ride is making you feel ill? That was the feeling Yuri Plisetsky was currently experiencing.

 

He was standing at the edge of his practice ice rink, watching two of his friends as they leant against the opposite wall. Mila’s head was thrown back in laughter, as she reached out and placed a hand on Otabek’s arm. She’d just past Yuri, slipping off her skate guards with a sly smile.

 

“I’m going to do it,” she’d said, staring at Otabek with a determined look.

 

“You’re going to do what?” Yuri asked, leaning on the edge of the rink and staring at his phone as he did a perfect vertical split.

 

“I’m going to give Otabek my number,” Mila said, grinning at Yuri before she took off after the Kazakh skater.

 

Yuri had stood there, frozen in the splits, his lollipop in danger of falling out of his gaping mouth, unable to move as he watched Mila catch up to Otabek and gesture for him to join her by the side of the rink.

 

Now Yuri was stood watching her laugh and flick her red hair, and, to his horror, he saw the corner of Otabek’s lip quirk up in response. And then she was handing her number to him, giving him a wink before pushing off to do a circuit of the rink.

 

Yuri turned. He walked stiffly into the locker room. His whole body felt tingly, and not in a good way, but that chilly, sick tingling of oversensitive skin. Because he had been in love with Otabek Altin for three years now.

 

Yuri sat down on the locker room bench and unlaced his skates with shaking fingers. His blonde hair fell forwards in a sheet, long enough now to brush the floor. He quickly swapped to his regular leopard print shoes and stood up. The room tilted alarmingly, and he reached out to slam a hand on a locker for support.

 

“Yuri?”

 

He looked up. Otabek was hurrying towards him, concern etched into his features. Otabek reached for him, but Yuri flinched away from his touch, grimacing. Otabek retracted his hand, confusion now mingling with the concern.

 

“Yuri, are you okay?” Otabek asked. The deep timbre of his voice combined with the intense gaze of his dark eyes sent a thrill up Yuri’s spine. Just like they always did.

 

“I’m fine, geez, leave me alone,” Yuri snapped, chucking his lollipop in the bin as he tugged his sports bag onto his shoulder. “Why don’t you go find Mila or somebody else who actually wants you around?”

 

Yuri turned and hurried from the room before Otabek could reply, not wanting to see the hurt look on Otabek’s face. When he reached the doors leading outside he broke into a run. His shoes slapped against the frozen sidewalk, his sharp breaths coming in clouds as he ran through the early evening. It was already dark, the lights of St Petersburg warming the chilly night with their glow.

 

The subway was dirty and dingy, and Yuri sank into the familiarity of it as he finally stopped running. He plugged his headphones into his ears as he descended the subway steps, the angry music soothing his nerves as he found the right platform and stepped aboard his train. He sunk into an empty seat and pulled his phone from his pocket, scrolling through Instagram to distract himself from the sharp thoughts that were trying to dig themselves into his consciousness.

 

Twenty minutes later and Yuri was kicking his shoes off in the living room of his apartment. The place was small and modest, but it had been a huge step moving out of his grandfather’s and getting his own place. He’d been so excited to decorate it, accenting his mostly black and dark grey furniture with splashes of red and leopard print.

 

Now the lounge was lit by the soft glow of lamps as he entered it. He’d just sunk onto the couch with a cup of tea cradled in his hands when there was a knock at the door. Yuri sighed and placed the tea down. He crossed the open plan living room to the door and swung it open, and felt as though the breath had been punched from his lungs.

 

Otabek stood facing him, his usual scowl even more pronounced as he stared at Yuri.

 

“What do you want?” Yuri sneered, not moving aside to let Otabek in.

 

“To ask you why we’re fighting,” Otabek replied. “Are you going to let me in?”

 

Yuri huffed and rolled his eyes before stalking away, leaving the door open for Otabek to step through and close behind him. Yuri marched straight from the living room to the kitchen, which were only divided by a counter, the dark wood floorboards going seamlessly from one to the other. He turned and leant against the far counter, crossing his arms and frowning at Otabek, who had followed Yuri into the kitchen and now stood near the opposite counter where he was placing his helmet down.

 

“Well?” Otabek asked, fixing Yuri with that intense stare that cut right to Yuri’s core.

 

Of course he would be so calm, Yuri thought angrily. Otabek never rose to his taunts. Never said anything when Yuri snapped at him. Just walked away when Yuri threw a fit. But he’d followed Yuri tonight, probably because there was no logical beginning to Yuri’s outburst, and he never did have proper outbursts at Otabek, most of his fits being directed at other people.

 

“Well what?” Yuri spat, flicking his long hair over his shoulder and glaring at the cupboards rather than at Otabek.

 

“Why are we fighting?” Otabek asked.

 

Yuri’s eyes raked over his high cheekbones, his strong jaw, his stupidly cool undercut. Suddenly he couldn’t bear to look at any of it. He turned sharply away, grabbing a dirty mug from the sink and starting to scrub it furiously.

 

“Maybe it’s because you haven’t been around,” Yuri said, his voice staying surprising strong even though his hands were shaking. “Maybe it’s because you’ve been too busy with all your DJing gigs to call me but the moment Mila flits over to you with her phone number and the offer of a date —”

 

“This is about Mila?” Otabek asked from behind him, and Yuri turned, suddenly furious.

 

“No this isn’t about Mila,” he lied, the soap suds dripping from his clenched fists. “This is about you never being around any more, never having time for your friend who has always been there for you. You don’t even care do you? You don’t give a shit about me or anybody as long as they’ve got big tits and are dumb enough to date you.”

 

Otabek snapped. Yuri was actually taken aback. He’d never managed to make Otabek snap before, but suddenly he was shouting.

 

“You think I don’t care about you?” Otabek said, his volume matching Yuri’s as he stepped forwards. “Yes, I’ve been busy with gigs these last couple of weeks, but did I not give you warning? Did I not call you after every gig? Did I not tell you that I’d rather be hanging out with you than playing to some strangers, because sure it’s fun, but I fucking care about you, Yuri, so don’t you dare suggest I don’t.”

 

“Oh yeah?” Yuri shouted back, not even sure what he was fighting for anymore, just knowing that there was a big old block of pain resting on his heart, and it seemed easier to shout over it than to look directly at it. “Well how come we always have to go to your place? How come you never come over here?”

 

“Because you said you liked my place more!” Otabek said incredulously, taking another step forwards across the small kitchen. “You said the couch is comfier and I have better films and you like crashing in my bed!”

 

“Well maybe if you’d pay more attention you’d know the reason I like crashing in your bed so much,” Yuri shouted, no longer completely aware of what he was saying but stepping forwards so him and Otabek were almost nose to nose.

 

“Oh yeah?” Otabek sneered. “And what’s that?”

 

“Because I love you!” Yuri practically screamed, and he saw Otabek’s eyes go wide, but he was already reaching for him, already pulling his face down, already pressing his lips to Otabek’s, already jumping without a parachute.

 

Otabek went stiff for a moment and Yuri panicked, realising what he’d just done. But then Otabek was melting against him, gathering Yuri up and pressing him back against the counter behind him, smashing their mouths together, entwining their tongues. And Yuri’s hands were in Otabek’s hair, and Otabek’s arms were around Yuri, and Otabek’s mouth was hard against his, and it was like their mouths were fighting, and the counter was digging into his back, but he didn’t care, because this feels good, oh god this feels  _ so good _ .

 

They broke apart, both of them breathing hard as they stared at each other, their cheeks flushed and their mouths kiss bruised. Then, very gently, Otabek reached up and tucked Yuri’s hair behind his ear, the corner of his mouth quirking up. And Yuri melted.

 

“Hi,” Otabek whispered, smiling gently at him.

 

“Hi,” Yuri whispered back, and Otabek placed a soft kiss on his nose.

 

Yuri grinned at him. Otabek was looking at him with utter adoration in his eyes, and right after all the kissing it was making Yuri a little dizzy.

 

“I love you too, Yura,” Otabek murmured, and then he kissed him again, soft this time.

 

Their mouths were molten, Otabek’s lips like velvet against Yuri’s. And it was painfully tender, Otabek’s hands coming up to cradle Yuri’s face between his palms. Yuri’s hands fell to Otabek’s hips, drunk on the taste of him. He wondered if this was fate, although he’d never believed in any of that crap. But how else could you explain how well their mouths fit together? How his body responded to Otabeks in little sighs and shudders? How he felt like they were falling even though their feet were on solid ground?

 

Yuri broke away.

 

“Beka,” he sighed, running his thumb over Otabek’s bottom lip. “Will you… will you take me to bed?”

 

Otabek moved back slightly to get a better look at him.

 

“Yuri are you sure you’re ready?” Otabek asked, concern in his eyes. “We can wait.”

 

Yuri smiled softly at him, feeling a swell of love for the man. Otabek knew he was a virgin, Yuri had admitted it to him a couple of years ago.

 

“It’s been long enough,” Yuri said, his thumb still on Otabek’s lip. “Do you know the things I’ve thought about doing to you? Of the things I’ve thought of you doing to me?”

 

Otabek let out a little whimper, and kissed Yuri, more passionately this time but with none of the rage of the first kiss. Then he was backing up, drawing Yuri with him. They stumbled into Yuri’s bedroom, Yuri breaking away to go to his side table and turn on the lamp there, bathing the room in its soft glow.

 

He turned and looked at Otabek, suddenly shy. Otabek stood at the end of his double bed, and Yuri thought how absurd Otabek would look wrapped up in the leopard print sheets. But this was Yuri’s space, and he welcomed Otabek into it, even with all the ridiculous touches of himself that clung to it; the cat ears on the mirror over the dresser, the tiger painting on the wall, the assortment of brightly coloured shoes jumbled by the wardrobe.

 

Otabek gave him a soft smile, and beckoned for him. Yuri crossed to him, meeting his outstretched hands with his own. Otabek gave him the lightest of kisses. It was soothing, reassuring.

 

Yuri sat down on the bed, crawling backwards towards the pillows as Otabek followed him on his hands and knees. And then Otabek was on top of him, and Yuri was relishing the weight of him, the feeling of Otabek braced above him, all muscle and sex appeal.

 

Otabek moved back slightly, fixing Yuri with a serious look that gave Yuri the strong desire to laugh.

 

“If you want to stop at any point, say so,” Otabek said, staring into Yuri’s eyes. “We’ll stop straight away, even if you’re only slightly uncomfortable.”

 

“I’m always comfortable with you, Beka,” Yuri said, smiling gently up at him.

 

Otabek’s eyes softened.

 

“Promise me,” he murmured.

 

“I promise,” Yuri whispered, and pulled Otabek back down.

 

Otabek ground his hips down into Yuri’s. Yuri let out a groan at the unexpected contact, then flushed at the embarrassing noise.

 

“Yura,” Otabek growled, letting his head fall onto Yuri’s shoulder. “I love hearing you, Yura.”

 

The embarrassment dissolved, which was good because Otabek rolled his hips again and drew another moan from Yuri. Yuri was getting hard, and he could feel Otabek was too. He tugged at the polo neck jumper Otabek was wearing, and Otabek leant back to allow him to tug it off. Yuri bit his lip. He'd seen Otabek shirtless before, in the locker room and when he stayed over at his, but it was quite different having it on top of him.

 

Yuri laid a hand against Otabek's bare chest. The skin was hot and taught over his sharply defined muscles. Otabek nuzzled kisses along Yuri's neck.

 

He held the hem of Yuri’s t-shirt, leaning back so he could look at Yuri's face and make sure he was okay with this. Yuri let Otabek draw his t-shirt off him, before flopping back down to the bed. Otabek drunk the sight of him in with hungry eyes before laying kisses down his chest. Yuri bit his lip. Otabek worked lower, nibbling his hipbone lightly.

 

His eyes were questioning as he laid his fingers on the button of Yuri's jeans. Yuri nodded, and Otabek undid his jeans. Soon they were on the floor, and Otabek was kissing him again.

 

“Remember we can stop at any time,” Otabek reminded him.

 

“Does it look like I wanna stop?” Yuri huffed, bucking his hips slightly and highlighting his half hard cock.

 

Otabek smirked. He reached down and gently cupped Yuri through his boxers. Yuri let out a whimper, his eyes going wide and his mouth falling open, Otabek’s mouth inches from his own as he watched Yuri come apart as he rubbed him. Yuri held his gaze, loving the way Otabek’s brow pinched as he watched him, clearly loving the sight of the effect he was having on Yuri.

 

“Can I taste you?” Otabek asked, the low rumble of his voice making Yuri shiver.

 

“Oh god please do,” Yuri panted, and bit his knuckle as Otabek worked kisses down his torso.

 

Otabek knelt between his shaking legs and worked his boxers off. Yuri’s cheeks flushed slightly as Otabek stared at him, but he didn't stop him.

 

“Beautiful,” Otabek murmured, apparently to himself as his eyes roved over the whole of Yuri in his naked state.

 

“Stop it, you’re embarrassing me,” Yuri groaned, rolling his eyes.

 

“Trust me, Yura,” Otabek said, his voice low with lust as his eyes found Yuri’s. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about.”

 

And then he sunk his mouth onto Yuri’s cock. Yuri gasped at having his whole length engulfed by Otabek’s mouth.

 

“Beka,” he said, his voice startled and breathy.

 

Otabek hummed around him, looking up at him through his lashes, his cheeks hollowed. Yuri quivered as Otabek’s hum vibrated down his cock. His mouth was ludicrously wet and hot, and it was so lewd but so good, and then Otabek started to bob his head and suck, and Yuri was lost. He tangled his hands in Otabek’s hair, keening and writhing and practically sobbing Otabek’s name. The pressure of Otabek’s mouth and the roll of his tongue had Yuri almost in tears. It didn’t take long for Yuri to be begging for more.

 

“Beka,” he gasped, tugging at his hair slightly to get him to stop. “Beka, I want you.”

 

Otabek released him reluctantly, licking his lips as he watched Yuri’s cock fall onto his stomach. Then he looked up.

 

“Do you have — ?”

 

“Yes,” Yuri replied, nodding to his side table.

 

Otabek gave him a sly smirk.

 

“And why would you have lube, my little Yuratchka?” Otabek asked, crawling up the bed to press his lips to Yuri’s.

 

Yuri flushed.

 

“I touch myself,” Yuri admitted, letting his breath ghost over Otabek’s lips. “I imagine it’s your fingers inside me.”

 

Otabek groaned, biting his lip, his eyes desperate.

 

“I imagine it’s your cock as I put another finger in,” Yuri murmured. “And I beg for you to fuck me harder, moan into my pillow as you do, scream your name as I cum.”

 

Otabek let out a growl and engulfed Yuri in a passionate kiss. He pinned Yuri’s wrists on either side of his head as he ground his clothed crotch down into Yuri’s. Yuri whimpered, desperate for more.

 

Otabek fumbled for the side table draw. He found the lube and undid his jeans. Yuri took over, pushing Otabek up so he was kneeling up above him. Yuri wasted no time, pushing Otabek’s boxers down along with his jeans. Otabek kicked them off, and Yuri stared.

 

“It’s um…” Otabek started, looking slightly worried as Yuri stared at him.

 

“It’s big,” Yuri said bluntly.

 

That was an understatement. Otabek was hung as fuck. Yuri was ridiculously turned on my this, but he was also a little worried about it hurting.

 

“We don’t have to,” Otabek said, going to move away.

 

“No,” Yuri said, catching Otabek’s hips.

 

His tongue flicked out and licked the tip of Otabek’s erection. Otabek shuddered. Then Yuri took him into his mouth, right to the root just to see if he could. Otabek gasped and his torso folded as he clutched Yuri’s head, not holding him down, just holding him. Yuri found that if he relaxed his throat he had pretty much no gag reflex and could in fact swallow all of Otabek. He rolled his tongue experimentally and Otabek let out a little whimper. He’d never done this before, but he figured if he did to Otabek what Otabek had done to him then it’d work out okay.

 

Yuri drew his head back, his cheeks hollowing as he sucked up Otabek’s length. Otabek gripped his shoulders as Yuri got to the tip before sinking back down to the root. He repeated this a few times, enjoying the weight of Otabek on his tongue and the stretch of his lips around him.

 

“S-stop, Yura,” Otabek panted, pushing at his shoulders.

 

Yuri obliged, letting Otabek’s cock fall out of his mouth as he looked up at him.

 

“Can I have it now?” Yuri asked, a sly smile on his face.

 

Otabek bit his lip and nodded, his hair flopping forwards as he looked down at him.

 

“Lie back,” he instructed.

 

Yuri did as he was told, settling himself onto the pillows. Otabek uncapped the lube and slicked his fingers with it.

 

“Try to relax,” Otabek said, as he laid the lube aside and moved Yuri’s legs further apart.

 

“I’ve had my own fingers in there,” Yuri reminded him. “I know how this goes.”

 

Otabek flushed slightly at the reminder of Yuri fingering himself, and chose to look down rather than meet Yuri’s smug eyes. He pressed a finger against Yuri’s hole before climbing over him.

 

“Even so,” Otabek said, as he started to push in. “I want to know if this feels uncomfortable.”

 

Yuri wasn’t able to respond as Otabek’s finger pushed all the way into him. Otabek crooked it slightly and Yuri gasped, eyes going wide as his hands flew to Otabek’s shoulders.

 

“There?” Otabek asked with a smirk, already knowing the answer.

 

Yuri nodded furiously. His mouth fell open as Otabek repeatedly rubbed the spot.

 

“M-more,” he begged, and Otabek obliged, adding a second finger.

 

Yuri bit his lip, his back arching as his body relaxed around the stretch of Otabek’s scissoring fingers. Yuri whined and Otabek started to fuck into him with his fingers, his eyes dark as he watched Yuri keen and writhe beneath him.

 

“Now, Otabek, now,” Yuri panted. “I need you now.”

 

“No you’re not ready,” Otabek replied, concentrating on stretching Yuri properly.

 

Yuri whined and begged, but Otabek ignored him. Yuri fell silent save for the moans and gasps that escaped him.

 

It felt like forever before Otabek sat back on his heels, drawing his fingers out of Yuri. Yuri bit his lip, and had to resist touching himself as Otabek slicked his cock up. Otabek’s eyes fell shut for a moment, and then he was climbing back up over Yuri.

 

“You’ll say if it hurts?” Otabek asked again, his tip resting against Yuri’s entrance.

 

“Yes, for fuck’s sake just put it in me, Beka!” Yuri begged, squeezing Otabek’s hips with his thighs.

 

Very cautiously, Otabek slid the head of his cock in. Yuri gasped, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to adjust to having Otabek inside him. Otabek slid in a little more and Yuri pressed his lips together. He wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to take it for a moment, but then he felt his walls relax around Otabek, and sighed in relief.

 

“Okay?” Otabek asked.

 

“Yes,” Yuri sighed, comfortable as Otabek slid all the way in.

 

There was a slight burn, but Otabek had done a good job in preparing him.

 

Otabek’s head fell forwards against Yuri’s shoulder.

 

“Yura,” he sighed, his voice gravelly. “You feel so good, Yura.”

 

“You too,” Yuri managed to choke out. Otabek was so big that Yuri felt as though the breath had been pushed right from his lungs. But he did feel good.

 

Very slowly, Otabek started to move. He leant back slightly so he could watch Yuri’s face for signs of discomfort, one hand supporting his weight, the other on the swell of Yuri’s ass. After a few slow thrusts he hit that spot inside Yuri, and the younger man let out a cry, his back arching as he gripped Otabek’s shoulder blades. He started to roll his hips with Otabek, and it was so painfully slow and good that Yuri was sure his sanity would crack.

 

“Beka,” Yuri sighed, as Otabek kept striking just right.

 

Otabek kissed him, and Yuri’s hands tangled in his hair.

 

“More,” Yuri demanded, and Otabek drew out before thrusting sharply back in. “Beka!”

 

Yuri’s eyes rolled back as Otabek started to fuck into him hard, his limbs going floppy and compliant as his body was rocked with each of Otabek’s thrusts.

 

“God, you’re beautiful,” Otabek groaned, his hips snapping forwards as he stared down at Yuri.

 

Yuri managed to focus his eyes in order to find Otabek’s.

 

“I — I’m not gonna last long,” Yuri panted, gripping the poles of the headboard.

 

“Yes, Yura,” Otabek purred, his hand finding Yuri’s cock and stroking it so Yuri whimpered. “Cum for me.”

 

Otabek moved to grip the headboard with his free hand, giving him more leverage to really fuck Yuri into the mattress. Yuri cried out as Otabek continued to stroke him, the friction almost unbearable.

 

Then he was cuming, half screaming Otabek’s name as his load shot across his chest. And he was seeing fucking stars and this was so much better than making himself cum, and he was just so fucking full. His walls clamped down and Otabek gasped as his hips stuttered. He came inside Yuri, his name falling whispered from his lips repeatedly as his hips rolled with the waves of their orgasms.

 

They finally stopped. Otabek fell onto his elbows. Yuri’s hands came up to draw circles with his fingertips onto the skin of Otabek’s back. Otabek shuddered, and moved to kiss Yuri.

 

“I love you, Yura,” he whispered against his lips. “So much.”

 

Yuri felt something open up inside of him, something warm and pure and good.

 

“I love you so much too,” he whispered back.

 

Otabek slid carefully out and rolled onto his side, grabbing Yuri’s underwear to wipe his stomach down before tossing them into the corner.

 

“Wanna watch a movie?” Yuri asked as they climbed under the duvet.

 

“Sure,” Otabek said sleepily as he yawned.

 

Yuri dug out his laptop from the other side table drawer and placed it on Otabek’s lap so he could snuggle into his side.

 

“Alien? Really?” Otabek said as Yuri brought up the film.

 

“It’s a classic,” Yuri said, making the movie full screen as he leant up on one elbow.

 

“Yeah but it’s not exactly befitting the mood,” Otabek pointed out, ruffling his hair.

 

“It’s always befitting my mood,” Yuri said with a smirk. “Hey, this is who I am, blood, darkness, and anger.”

 

“I know, my little tiger,” Otabek murmured, burying his face in Yuri’s hair. “And I love all of you.”

 

Yuri grinned and pressed play, snuggling down to lay his head on Otabek’s shoulder.

  
If this is what happiness is, Yuri thought as the opening credits of Alien started, then he could get used to it.


	6. Mouthful of Fever

Yuri was sick. And not the fun-miss-a-day-of-school-sick, but really, truly sick.

“Otabeeek,” Yuri whined, huddled on the sofa under two blankets.

It was a Saturday. Otabek Altin’s apartment was filled with wintry sunshine and the smell of spiced parsnip soup. It was a nice apartment, all greys, blacks, and whites much like Otabek’s wardrobe. Modern but cosy, and usually featuring a small angry Russian boy.

“Yes, Yura?” Otabek asked, coming around the edge of the entrance to the sitting room, which wasn’t so much a door as a point where the north corner of the room should have been, but instead opened straight out into a square hallway with doors to the other room leading off it.

“My head hurts,” Yuri groaned, sniffling as he gazed helplessly at Otabek.

“Well the asprin has probably worn off,” Otabek said, looking at his watch and almost causing the spoon he was holding to drip soup on the floor. “I’ll get you some more.”

He ducked back out of sight and Yuri sighed, closing his eyes.

He had been practically living at Otabek’s ever since the other man moved to St Petersburg a year ago. They’d been friends for four years now. A friendship that involved lots of movies, motorbike rides, laughter, and on Yuri’s part, a whole lot of pining.

That’s right folks, Yuri Plisetsky was utterly, hopelessly, pitifully in love. The problem had emerged about a year into their friendship, although Yuri had a pretty good idea of its existence before then, despite ignoring it. But eventually he couldn’t ignore it. Sometimes Yuri was worried that it would just spill out of his mouth. Whenever Otabek gave Yuri one of those rare smiles of his, when they skated together during practice, when he said one of his deep thoughts that sounded like it had been written by a poet but was in fact just Otabek’s musings on the world, and a hundred other little triggers that would have Yuri pressing his lips together, willing those three little words to just stay in his mouth.

He knew it was pathetic. Once or twice Yuri had had stern talks with himself in the bathroom mirror. But then Otabek would appear, signature leather jacket and fingerless gloves in tow and Yuri would just melt all over again.

Otabek appeared from the kitchen again, a glass of water in one hand and pills in the other. He handed the two little tablets to Yuri, who swallowed them obediently, before passing him the water.

“They should kick in soon and then you’ll feel better,” Otabek said, staring down at him sympathetically, just in a white t-shirt and a pair of black jeans but still looking gorgeous. “And I think the soups ready.”

“Thank you,” Yuri mumbled, and drew the blankets closer around himself, suddenly very aware of his oversized jumper, which he wore like a dress, and women’s leggings.

Otabek gave him a little smile, and then headed back to the kitchen. He emerged a moment later with a tray.

“Here,” Otabek said, and Yuri let his legs fall from where he’d been clutching them to his chest so Otabek could set the tray on his lap.

Otabek took one of the bowls of soup from the tray and settled himself beside Yuri. Yuri hummed in contentment as he took his first mouthful of soup. It was warm and had just the right amount of spices.

“Film?” Otabek asked, holding up the remote.

“Sure,” Yuri agreed, and Otabek turned on the TV which sat on the wall to their left between the their sofa and the one that stood against the other wall.

Otabek chose Terminator, knowing it was one of Yuri’s favourites. Yuri blinked sleepily at the screen. He only got half way through his soup, his appetite not really there, before he placed the tray down. Otabek finished soon after and Yuri shuffled over to him.

“Play with my hair?” Yuri asked, and Otabek lifted an arm so Yuri could lay his head in his lap.

Yuri used to make up excuses to get Otabek to touch his hair, asking him to braid it for him or help him brush it. But then Otabek had figured it out and said, rather bluntly, that if Yuri wanted him to play with his hair all he had to do was ask. So he did, rather regularly too.

Yuri sighed as Otabek’s fingers buried themselves in his hair, stroking it back from his face. His eyes slipped shut momentarily as Otabek’s nails scraped lightly over his scalp, and he had to suppress the urge to shudder. His hair hung just below his shoulder blades now.

Yuri must've dozed off because he blinked and the credits were rolling up the screen. He rubbed his eyes. His brain felt scrambled. He sat up.

“Otabek?” Yuri asked, looking at him in confusion.

“Hey sleepyhead,” Otabek said with a smile.

“What are you doing here?” Yuri asked.

“What do you mean?” Otabek replied, his brow furrowing in confusion.

“Why aren't you in Kazakhstan?” Yuri persisted, before looking around at the room. “Is this… oh this is your apartment… do I live here with you?”

“Uh oh,” Otabek said, staring at Yuri in horror.

Otabek sprung to his feet, going for his phone on the coffee table. He found the number quickly and pressed call.

“Victor? Hi, it's Otabek.”

 

* * *

 

“And he just didn't know where he was?” Victor asked, peering at Yuri as he bent over him.

“Get out of my face, Victor,” Yuri snapped, scowling at his fellow Russian.

Victor and Katsudon had turned up fifteen minutes after Otabek had called, and now wouldn't leave Yuri alone. And alone with Otabek was all he wanted to be.

“Yeah,” Otabek said. “And he has a really high temperature, do you think we should take him to the hospital?”

“No I'll get a guy I know to drop by,” Victor said, sighing as he stood up and running a hand through his hair.

“A guy?” Otabek repeated, dubious.

“A doctor,” Victor elaborated, turning to Otabek. “He does house calls.”

“Okay,” Yuuri broke in, emerging from the kitchen with a steaming mug clutched in his hands. “This is some mint tea with honey which should help with sore throat.”

He smiled at Yuri as he bent to offer him the tea.

“Thanks,” Yuri mumbled accepting the tea, and then; “Yuuri I think Victor likes you, he keeps looking at you funny.”

Victor, Yuuri and Otabek broke into laughter.

“What? He does!” Yuri said, looking between the three of them.

“We've been together for four years, Yurio,” Victor chuckled, looping an arm around Yuuri. “You came to our wedding a couple of years ago.”

“Oh yeah…” Yuri said, staring into space as it all came flooding back to him.

“I'll call my guy now,” Victor said to Otabek, still smiling as he got his phone out.

“I'm gonna go buy him some more asprin before this batch wears off,” Otabek said and grabbed his coat as he head for the door.

“He's pretty,” Yuri said after Otabek had left.

Yuuri and Victor collapsed against each other in fits of giggles. Yuri didn't understand what was so funny but he smiled along anyway.

“Yurio,” Victor said, still giggling as he came forwards, drawing his phone from his pocket. “What do you think of Otabek?”

“Oh I love him,” Yuri stated simply.

“You… love him?” Victor said, surprise on his face as he looked at his phone, which Yuri couldn't work out why he was holding up towards him like that.

Yuuri stepped forwards and laid a hand on Victor’s arm, gently pushing it down, his eyes full of understanding.

“Of course he does, Victor,” Yuuri said softly. “You must've seen the way he looks at him.”

“Yeah but I thought he had a crush,” Victor groaned, his gaze flicking back and forth between the two Yuris.

“No,” Yuuri shook his head, a small smile on his lips. “He looks at him the way I look at you. I've seen my face in photos Victor, and yours when you look at me. He's got it bad.”

The pair of them gazed at Yuri who simply smiled at them, an oddity in itself.

“When’s Otabek coming back?” he asked.

“He'll be back in a moment,” Yuuri said, and came and sat beside Yuri.

“I don't like it when we’re not together,” Yuri said, feeling suddenly sad. “It hurts… here.”

He pointed to his chest. Yuuri looked at him sympathetically.

“I know it does,” Yuuri said, and he reached out and folded Yuri into his arms.

Yuri didn't object, snuggling happily into Yuuri’s side.

“Okay well that’s a bad sign,” Victor said, gesturing to how Yuri was hugging Yuuri back.

“I like him like this,” Yuuri said. “He’s friendly.”

“Maybe we should poison him and keep him permanently sick.”

“Victor!”

“You guys are loud,” Yuri grumbled, snuggling further into Yuuri’s side.

“Sorry,” Yuuri said gently, stroking Yuri’s hair back from his forehead.

“Do you think I’ll ever be as cool as Otabek?” Yuri asked, his sentence stuttering out into a yawn.

“No,” Victor said bluntly, throwing himself down onto the opposite couch.

“Victor!” Yuuri said again, shooting daggers at his husband before turning back to Yuri. “You’re already very cool, Yuri, I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“Okay. But Yuuri,” he said in a whisper. “I like him so much. Sometimes it feels as though I’m going to tell him, but then I don’t, and that hurts. And then sometimes I think he’ll find out and won’t want to be my friend anymore, and that hurts too. But he makes me feel all tingly, Yuuri.”

Victor’s shoulders were shaking with barely suppressed laughter. Yuuri was looking amused but sympathetic.

“I know he does,” he said gently. “And I don’t think he wouldn’t want to be your friend anymore, Yuri. I think he’d be very happy to find out you love him. But maybe tell him some other time, yeah?”

“Okay,” Yuri agreed. “He’s so pretty though.”

Victor let out a squawk of laughter which quickly turned into a coughing fit as Yuuri gave him a very filthy look.

“I’m going to go get some water,” Victor spluttered, his shoulders still shaking as he went into the kitchen.

Yuuri’s hand felt nice stroking Yuri’s hair. He blinked sleepily a few times, before succumbing to sleep.

He woke with a jolt as the door slammed. Otabek came running up the stairs as he sat up, blinking around blurrily.

“Bekaaa,” Yuri whined, making grabby motions with his hands towards Otabek.

Otabek smiled sheepishly and came to sit beside him. Yuri instantly curled around him, clinging to his side like a koala bear.

“He's very affectionate when he's like this,” Victor noted, his head tilted and a finger on his lips as he considered Yuri. “I made the very innocent suggestion that we get him sick more often and Yuuri just—”

“No,” Otabek growled, his arm looped protectively around Yuri.

“Joking! Joking,” Victor said quickly, holding his hands up.

There was a knock on the door.

“Is that the pizza?” Yuri asked.

Victor rolled his eyes and went to get the door. A moment later he returned, another man in tow.

“Hi Yuri,” the newcomer said.

He had a friendly face, and Yuri smiled at him.

“Victor tells me you're not feeling well,” the man said.

He was wearing glasses and his hair was grey. He looked smart, Yuri thought to himself.

“My head hurts,” Yuri told him. “And my throat. And I feel cold.”

“I'm sorry to hear that,” the man said. “Do you think you could open your mouth so I can have a look?”

Ten minutes later and the man was stood in the hall with Victor, Yuuri and Otabek. Yuri watched them sleepily from the lounge, blankets pulled up to his chin as he lay to one side on the couch. He caught snippets of their conversation; “should be okay” and “if it worsens take him to hospital” and “try these for now”.

Then the man left and his three friends came back into the living room.

“Okay, Yurio,” Victor said, cuffing him merrily on the shoulder and making Yuri wince and Yuuri give a scolding “Victor!”.

“We’re off. Feel better soon, yeah?”

“You'll call if anything happens won't you?” Yuuri was saying to Otabek, pressing the packet of mint tea into his hands.

Otabek assured them he would and the pair of them left. When Otabek reemerged from seeing them to the door Yuri made grabby hands at him again. Otabek obeyed with a smile, coming to sit down next to him, instantly engulfed by Yuri's limbs.

“You're warm,” Yuri said, shivering as he wrapped himself around Otabek and laid his head on his chest.

“You have a fever,” Otabek said. “Maybe we should get you into a proper bed?”

“M’kay, but you come too,” Yuri said, snuggling his face into Otabek’s chest.

“Okay,” Otabek agreed and the pair of them stood, Yuri clutching his blankets.

Yuri felt suddenly tingly all over, the blankets slipping from his numb hands as the room tipped.

“Woah,” Otabek said as he caught him.

He hoisted Yuri into his arms, one arm under his knees the other around his back as Yuri snuggled into his chest.

“Why don't you carry me everywhere? This is nice,” Yuri said sleepily, closing his eyes as Otabek carried him to the bedroom.

Otabek's chest hummed with his deep chuckle.

“It'd make doing things a little tricky,” Otabek pointed out as they entered his room.

Otabek's room was simple; white walls and a large double bed with white sheets. A clothes rack and a chest of drawers stood on the wood floorboards, and the window had gauzy, floaty curtains, giving the whole room a crisp, minimalist feel.

Otabek laid Yuri down on the bed and pulled the covers up.

“Stay?” Yuri asked. “Come sleep with me… not in that way. We’re just friends, although I want to be more.”

 

* * *

 

Otabek froze in the process of getting in the bed. He stared down at Yuri until the younger man made grabby motions at him again. He got in under the covers. Yuri instantly snuggled against him, and Otabek turned towards him so he could see Yuri’s face on the pillow beside his.

“What do you mean you want to be more?” Otabek asked, his heart beating very fast in his chest.

Yuri blinked sleepily at him, his eyes very green.

“I mean I'm in love with you,” Yuri said, as though it were the simplest thing in the world, as though it hadn't just made Otabek's life, never mind his day. “But I'm happy that we’re friends. I mean sometimes it makes my chest hurt and I feel like if I don't tell you I'll fall apart, but that's okay, you're still my friend.”

Otabek’s heart simultaneously broke and soared for joy in his chest. He brushed Yuri’s hair gently back from his face, loving the way Yuri's eyes slipped closed as he hummed at the touch. Otabek let his hand rest on Yuri’s head. He watched as the younger man’s brow furrowed slightly, before smoothing out, his breathing slowing as he sunk into a deep sleep.

Otabek leant forwards and kissed Yuri on the forehead very gently. Yuri frowned slightly in his sleep, before his face relaxed again, his breathing steady.

Otabek wouldn't let himself dare to hope that Yuri had really meant what he said. He had a fever, and couldn't possibly be as in love with Otabek as he was with him.

Because Otabek was in love with Yuri, had been for years. But he'd stayed quiet, let Yuri become close to him in other ways, nurtured their friendship so Yuri could come to him with anything, given him a safe place to stay and someone to lean on. Why else had Otabek moved to St Petersburg? For Yuri of course. Always for Yuri.

Yuri snuffled in his sleep, and Otabek gently stroked his hair, knowing how it settled him. Otabek loved when Yuri asked him to play with his hair, loved touching the soft strands, like spun gold, as Yuri relaxed into his touch.

But he wouldn't allow himself to feel entitled to Yuri's affections. Yuri had never really given anyone a proper shot romantically, but Otabek felt he deserved the best, which definitely wasn't him. Otabek knew Yuri was a virgin, and hoped he found someone who was gentle with him, who loved him exactly as he deserved to be loved.

Otabek mulled over Yuri's words from moments before as he watched him sleep. They did sound as though Yuri had thought about them, that stuff with his chest hurting? How could that be the fever talking?

But Otabek knew he was too close to this, that he wanted it too badly. So he let Yuri sleep, and kept himself at a distance, always there but never truly being one with him.

 

* * *

 

When Yuri woke he was groggy. He blinked sleepily, and saw that Otabek was laying in bed with him, an arm flung across Yuri’s waist as he slept. This was alarming, as Yuri had little memory of going to bed, nevermind with Otabek in tow. He enjoyed having Otabek hold him like this, but was aware that he was enjoying it a little too much for their relationship status.

The window outside was dark, the room lit by the glow of a little side table lamp.

Very carefully Yuri removed Otabek’s arm from his waist and tried to roll away.

“Yuri?”

Yuri winced. He turned.

“Hey,” Yuri said, smiling at Otabek, who was blinking sleepily and looking goddamn adorable as he did.

“What time is it?” Otabek asked, running his hand through his hair before letting it flop back onto Yuri’s waist.

This surprised Yuri, but he didn’t comment, instead leaning over Otabek to retrieve his phone from the nightstand.

“Only nine thirty at night… when did I fall asleep?” Yuri asked, rubbing his eyes with one hand as he settled down on his back.

“Around three in the afternoon,” Otabek said. “I must’ve dozed off a couple of hours ago.”

“What happened?” Yuri asked, trying to piece together the fragments of his memory from earlier that day. “I don’t really remember much… were Yuuri and Victor here?”

“Yes,” Otabek said, and when Yuri looked at him he saw that Otabek was looking slightly apprehensive.

“What?” Yuri asked, suddenly worried. “What did I do? I didn’t try to punch Victor or anything did I?”

“No, you were very friendly,” Otabek said carefully.

“Well that’s the fever talking,” Yuri said, and Otabek chuckled.

“You really don’t remember anything?” he asked, his arm slipping away from Yuri’s waist.

“Okay seriously what did I do?” Yuri asked, feeling very worried now.

What could he have done that would make Otabek look like that. He couldn’t think of anything. Unless… no that was impossible, he’d never tell Otabek his true feelings.

“Nothing bad,” Otabek said. He hesitated, not looking at Yuri.

“Beka,” Yuri said sternly. “Tell me what I did.”

“You told me you love me,” Otabek said, finally looking at Yuri.

Yuri felt as though the bed was slipping out from under him. He put his hands over his burning face, hiding it from Otabek as he prayed for an asteroid to hit St Petersburg in that very moment.

“Did you mean it?” Otabek asked, and his voice was quiet.

“Maybe,” Yuri mumbled into his hands, before groaning and rolling away from Otabek. “Jesus this is so embarrassing.”

“No, Yuri, no it’s not,” Otabek started, sitting up and tugging at Yuri’s shoulder.

Yuri rolled back, sitting up as he did, although he couldn’t bring himself to look at Otabek.

“Of course it is,” Yuri said, gesturing around the room wildly as he looked everywhere but at Otabek. “You’re my best friend, and you’re amazing and I’m just me, and I don’t want to fuck this up, I don’t have many friends, and even if I did you’d be special. So why the fuck did I have to go and fall in love with you? What the hell is my prob—?”

Yuri was abruptly cut off as Otabek grabbed his face in both of his hands and pulled him into a kiss. Yuri’s brain short circuited. He froze, his body going stiff and his eyes flying wide open as his heart beat a million miles a minute.

“Yuri?” Otabek said, breaking the kiss to look at him, his expression worried. “Are you okay?”

Yuri just stared at him, unable to say anything.

“Should I be worried or does this happen every time someone kisses you?” Otabek asked, a little smirk appearing on his face.

That broke Yuri’s trance.

“And who the hell would be kissing me when I’m clearly crazy about you?” Yuri asked, his shoulders relaxing as he grinned at Otabek.

“I don’t know,” Otabek said, leaning in to let his lips brush against Yuri’s. “But I’d rip their spine out because I’m in love with you too.”

“Saucy,” Yuri said with a grin, even though his heart felt like it was trying to claw its way through his chest right into Otabek’s lap after hearing he loved him too.

His hands came up to rest on Otabek’s chest as Otabek’s hands slid to his waist. And then they were kissing again, and Yuri felt like he was melting and falling and breaking all at the same time as his hands slid up to tangle themselves in Otabek’s hair and Otabek pulled him onto his lap.

Otabek’s mouth was like velvet, perfectly fitting to Yuri’s with a gentle yet needy pressure that made Yuri dizzy with pleasure. Otabek’s mouth opened, and Yuri’s lips parted in response, their tongues sliding together, hot, wet, and maddeningly good.

Yuri shifted, his mouth never leaving Otabek’s as he moved to straddle him. Otabek let out a little groan as Yuri’s crotch pressed down into his, and Yuri could feel him starting to get hard.

Then Otabek was pushing him back, laying kisses along his jaw, his neck. And fuck Yuri couldn’t even remember his own name as Otabek’s hips ground down into his, the thin material of his leggings letting him feel everything.

He tugged at Otabek’s t-shirt, and Otabek leant up to let him drag it over his head. Otabek went to lean back down, but Yuri placed a hand flat on his chest, holding him back. His eyes raked over Otabek. It was all muscle and tanned skin and Jesus Fucking Christ there was just so much _man_.

Yuri’s eyes found Otabek, who was looking amused as he stared down at Yuri, strands of the long pieces of his hair falling forwards.

“Get a good look?” Otabek asked with a grin.

“Mm, no,” Yuri said, his hands trailing down Otabek’s bare chest, making the older man shudder. “I’ll have to taste I’m afraid, strictly for scientific reasons of course.”

“Of course,” Otabek agreed, returning Yuri’s grin.

“For research,” Yuri said, leaning up to latch his mouth onto Otabek’s chest.

“Research?” Otabek asked, his voice slightly breathless and the arms that supported him shaking slightly as Yuri slid further down the bed, working a trail down his stomach.

“I’m writing a thesis,” Yuri said, his voice muffled by Otabek’s stomach, which was clenched as Yuri licked and kissed it.

“Oh yeah?” Otabek said, before letting out a little gasp as Yuri sucked on his hipbone.

“Mhmm,” Yuri hummed, his mouth full. “An essay on how to take Otabek Altin apart with only your mouth… and maybe a hand or two.”

And with that Yuri reached up and rubbed Otabek’s hardness through his jeans. Otabek nearly collapsed on top of him.

“Yuri!” he gasped, staring down at him.

Yuri blinked innocently up at him.

“Yes?” Yuri asked sweetly.

“You… you’re…” Otabek looked lost.

Yuri rolled them over, crawling up Otabek to kiss his stuttering mouth. He undid Otabek's jeans with one hand, the other supporting his weight.

“Yuri, we don’t have to — ah, ahah…”

Otabek cut himself off as Yuri managed to get his jeans off and pressed his palm to Otabek’s crotch. He could tell Otabek was big, hell he was practically breaking out of his boxers now that he was hard.

“Yuri…”

“Beka…” Yuri teased, smirking up at Otabek as he rubbed him through his boxers.

“Jesus, fuck,” Otabek groaned, gripping handfuls of the duvet. “We don’t have to do this Yuri… you’ve never… you’re still…”

“A virgin?” Yuri finished for him, still rubbing Otabek.

“Yes,” Otabek weakly, his brow furrowing as his mouth fell open.

“Well who better to lose it to than my best friend?” Yuri said, smiling warmly up at Otabek from where he knelt between his legs.

“How about…” Otabek panted, “your boyfriend?”

Yuri’s hand stopped still. Then he’d flung himself forwards to kiss Otabek. He kissed every inch of his face, making Otabek laugh and struggle.

“Stop! Stop,” Otabek said breathlessly, holding Yuri still.

“Yes,” Yuri said happily. “Boyfriend sounds nice.”

“Okay well as your boyfriend I’m insisting I bottom for your first time,” Otabek said. “Then, I dunno, you can see the logistics of it before you do it.”

“Okay,” Yuri agreed happily, not really caring who bottomed as long as he got to finally be with Otabek in the way he’d dreamt about.

Otabek turned over and shuffled across the bed to get to his side table. Whilst he did so Yuri removed his leggings and thick socks, before dragging the large sweatshirt over his head.

“Hey,” Otabek said, turning back to him with some lube in his hand. “I’m supposed to do that.”

“Oh I’m sorry shall I put them back on?” Yuri asked innocently, hands resting in his lap as he knelt there waiting for Otabek.

“Don’t you dare,” Otabek said, crawling forwards and pushing Yuri back so he fell with a happy little yelp.

Otabek kissed him deeply and Yuri relished the heat of his skin against his own, the weight of him on top of him. Then Otabek was kissing down his jaw, his neck, his chest. Yuri whimpered slightly as Otabek flicked his tongue over Yuri’s nipple before continuing his way down.

Otabek looked up at Yuri when he'd hooked his index fingers into his boxers, as though asking for permission. Yuri nodded.

Otabek drew his boxers down and hummed in approval. Yuri blushed but let Otabek look at him. Otabek kissed the inside of his thigh, very close to where it met his crotch and Yuri shivered. Then he licked a strip from the base to the tip of Yuri's length. Yuri gasped. Otabek’s tongue was insane.

And then Otabek took hold of him, and sunk his mouth down all the way to the hilt.

“Beka!” Yuri gasped, his hands automatically tangling in Otabek's hair as he sucked.

Otabek looked up through his lashes as he drew his mouth up, his cheeks hollowed out. The pressure of his mouth, the heat, the wetness, it was all so much, and Yuri’s legs twitched uncontrollably.

Otabek drew off him just enough to say; “you taste good, kitten.”

And holy fucking hell Yuri was lost.

He let out a choked moan, his head falling back as his shoulders instinctively curled inwards, hands still buried in Otabek's hair. And Otabek sunk back down and then up, and then down, over and over until Yuri was a whining, writhing mess.

“Beka,” he managed to gasp out, tugging lightly at his hair. “S-stop.”

Otabek released him with a sly smirk and crawled up to place a sloppy, lazy kiss to his lips that was so good he was sure he was going to pass out. They were both breathing heavily when Otabek broke away, their lips shiny and kiss bruised. Then Otabek was lying back on the mattress, slicking up his fingers as he parted his legs.

Yuri sat up and watched him, his bottom lip between his teeth as Otabek reached down. He pushed his first finger into himself, and Yuri let out a little whimper. He hurried to crawl over Otabek, to press his mouth to his, to taste his moans. And Otabek did moan, gasped Yuri's name, arched his back, clutched at the sheets as he fucked his fingers into himself. And Jesus Christ it was so fucking hot.

“I'm — I'm ready,” Otabek stuttered after a little while, out of breath and coming apart at the seams.

“Good,” Yuri purred against his mouth. “Because watching you do that made me nearly cum on my own.”

Otabek shuddered. Yuri leant back and slicked himself up. Then he crawled back over Otabek, one hand finding his as the other guided his cock into place.

“You'll say if it hurts, won't you, Beka?” Yuri asked, searching Otabek’s face, his blonde hair swept to one side in a golden wave.

Otabek smiled softly and reached up with his free hand to cup Yuri’s cheek.

“Of course, kitten,” he murmured.

And the nickname had Yuri shuddering as he slid in, his eyes rolling back. He gathered himself in order to check on Otabek, but when he looked down at the other man he looked calm, a slight smile hitching up one corner of his mouth.

“Good?” Otabek asked, and Yuri nodded, holding himself still for a moment. “Good. You can move, Yura.”

Yuri let out a shaky breath that he hadn't realised he'd been holding, and he slid back before plunging back in. He let out a whimper as Otabek took a sharp inhale of breath, but quickly confirmed that he was okay as Yuri’s eyes flashed in alarm. Then he started thrusting in earnest, slow and deep rolls of his hips as Otabek gradually relaxed beneath him. And this had to be heaven, Yuri thought. Otabek's heat, his tightness, his body beneath him.

Then Otabek arched his back slightly. And came apart.

“Yura!”

His cry was strangled, blurred by lust as he found just the right angle. Yuri leant back slightly to watch him. And his breath caught in his throat.

Otabek's eyes were closed, his brow pinched and his mouth open as his head fell slightly to the side. His hand still cupped Yuri’s cheek, his other pinned by Yuri's own, and oh god he was so beautiful. His cheeks were flushed even through the tan, his hair mussed and his lips swollen. And Yuri couldn't believe he was his, couldn't possibly begin to fathom what it was to have everything he'd ever wanted in one person.

“Beka.”

It was more of a sob than anything else, but Yuri couldn't help it. He loved him so much.

Otabek’s eyes opened, his dark brown meeting Yuri’s green.

“Hi,” Otabek whispered, his face lighting up with a smile.

“Hi,” Yuri whispered back, his own smile wobbly as tears rose to his eyes.

Otabek’s eyes widened in surprise, and his thumb smoothed away the first tear that slid down Yuri's cheek. Yuri leant down and kissed him, his hips still making painfully slow rolls. And there was all his love poured out into that kiss, and he was drowning in it.

Then Otabek was rolling them over, kissing away Yuri’s tears. And his body was curved over Yuri's as he rose and fell, never speeding up, both of them just enjoying the lazy, slow wonderfulness of being together.

Yuri became aware of a coiling heat in his stomach. He turned his head and caught Otabek's thumb in his mouth, sucking on it, his eyes falling shut. He reached down and gripped Otabek's cock, making the other man groan as his hips stuttered.

“Ïä, meniñ maxabbatım,” Otabek gasped in Kazakh, and Yuri moaned around his thumb, his eyes flying open, addicted to Otabek’s heavy, low language.

He stroked Otabek as he rose and fell on him, never speeding up, his walls tightening so Yuri had hold back with everything he had. Then he rubbed a thumb over the underside of Otabek's head and Otabek was moaning as he came, his eyes sliding shut as he spilled his load of Yuri. And the sight alone was enough to tip Yuri over the edge, never mind the way Otabek clenched around him.

“Beka!”

They rode it out, breathing jagged, eyes meeting, hands clasping. Finally Otabek drew himself up shakily, flopping down next to Yuri in an exhausted heap. They both lay there for a moment before Otabek grabbed his boxers and wiped down Yuri’s chest and stomach, propped up on one elbow. Then he kissed him.

“Hey,” Otabek murmured when he leant back.

“Hey,” Yuri returned, matching his smile.

“Was that okay?” Otabek asked hesitantly, and damn he was just so cute.

“It was fantastic,” Yuri sighed with a sleepy smile. “Although you'll probably get ill now.”

“Worth it,” Otabek decided.

They clambered under the covers, Yuri snuggling under Otabek's arm.

“Love you,” Otabek said through a yawn.

“Love you too,” Yuri said happily.

And they drifted off to sleep, planning to spend the rest of the weekend wrapped up in duvets and each other.

 

* * *

 

Ïä, meniñ maxabbatım - yes, my love

Again, let me know if you are an extremely offended Kazakh at my bad google translating skills.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOOOOOO give me ideas! I'm running out of them! What would you guys like to see? What's your deepest darkest desire, my children? Can't guarantee I'll do all of them, but I'll deffo write up my favourites!  
> Thanks for all the kudos and comments, you make my life!


	7. Mouthful of Medicine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter dedicated to Xena_146 and umh for their suggestions for what I should write, I combined your requests!

Yuri had to admit, he looked good in uniform.

It was Friday night, and Otabek hadn’t returned from practice yet. Yuri Plisetsky stood in the bedroom of the apartment they shared, admiring his image in the mirror. He was twenty-two years old now and stood at six foot three, his limbs long and slender in contrast to his boyfriend’s muscle. His waist length blonde hair was swept over one shoulder underneath a nurse’s hat. Thigh high, white stockings highlighted the elegant slimness of his long legs, held up by powder pink suspenders. To top it off, a tiny little white nurse’s uniform with baby pink accents that barely covered his ass. Yes, he looked good in uniform.

He’d placed candles around the room, he’d opened a bottle of wine, he’d shaved his legs, got dressed, and now he was ready. So where the fuck was Otabek?

He wandered out into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of wine. Then he hopped up onto the counter, his stocking clad legs crossed as he sipped from his glass.

Otabek had been really busy lately. Yakov had come up with a new training regime for him, and he’d had loads of gigs over the last couple of weeks. All this meant that they hadn’t been able to spend much time together. Which was why Yuri was making a fuss of this evening. All he needed was for Otabek to turn up. He wondered about sending him a snapchat of his outfit to make Otabek hurry home, but decided against it, wanting it to be a surprise.

Twenty minutes later and just as Yuri was considering changing into some sweatpants, he heard keys in the door. Then there were footsteps on the stairs. Then Otabek appeared in the kitchen door, his hair windswept from his motorbike ride home and his cheeks flushed.

He spotted Yuri sat on the kitchen counter and froze.

“Hey there sailor,” Yuri said with a smirk, leant on one hand as he swirled his wine with his other.

“Yuri…” Otabek started, taking a step forwards, his eyes wide as they raked over Yuri’s body.

“So I thought we’d try a little something new tonight,” Yuri said, slipping from the counter in one fluid motion.

His hips swung as he walked towards Otabek, who took another hesitant step forwards, his eyes still wide. Yuri laid his free hand on Otabek’s chest, smirking up into his startled face.

“Your outfit is in the bathroom, off you go,” Yuri said, before sipping from his wine glass.

“My… outfit?” Otabek repeated, stunned but unable to tear his eyes away from Yuri’s body, the figure hugging dress, the thigh grazing stockings.

“Your outfit,” Yuri confirmed, before giving his chest a little push.

Otabek turned, his face still dazed, and made his way to the bathroom. Yuri chuckled to himself. He loved surprising Otabek like this. He’d done it a few times before with lingerie, and it always made Otabek a speechless mess of a man. But this was the first time he’d tried dressing up in a costume.

He made his way to the bedroom, wine glass held loosely in his hand. He set about lighting the candles he’d laid out, having not wanted to light them earlier in case Otabek took too long and the little tea lights burned out. Then he lay on their double bed, facing the door and propped up on his elbows.

Conveniently their bed faced the door, the room being airy and all white during the day. But now in the light of the candles it was a soft yellow.

A moment later Otabek came in, looking slightly sheepish in a crisp white shirt, a pair of smart trousers, and a long white doctor’s coat, a stethoscope around his neck for authenticity. But it was the fucking glasses that had Yuri's cock twitching in anticipation.

“Well look at you, Doctor Altin,” Yuri purred, his knees bent so Otabek could see the lacy pink panties he had on beneath the dress.

“You look amazing, Yura,” Otabek breathed, his eyes raking over Yuri again. “I was too surprised to say it earlier.”

Yuri chuckled. He twisted around and crawled towards the foot of the bed, his eyes on Otabek. Otabek took a step forwards, and Yuri saw something flicker into life behind his eyes, any embarrassment he felt at his own outfit apparently gone.

“Doctor Altin,” Yuri said, his voice breathy as he came to kneel at the foot of the bed. “I’ve been very bad.”

“Have you now?” Otabek said, taking another step forwards.

“Yes,” Yuri sighed. “I messed up the order. You see I ordered extra restraints for that crazy patient in room one-seventy.”

Otabek’s brow creased in confusion as he tried to catch up with this slightly strange storyline.

“So now I have these handcuffs,” Yuri bent over the edge of the bed and drew out a pair of cuffs from under it, straightening with them dangling from one finger. “And no one to use them on. So very, very bad of me.”

Otabek took one last step forwards and bent at the waist, placing a finger under Yuri’s chin and tilting his head back.

“Well I guess I’ll just have to use them on you,” he murmured, his low voice making goosebumps appear on Yuri’s arms. “Seeing as you’ve been so bad.”

Yuri grabbed Otabek by the tie and drew him into a kiss, making Otabek moan into his mouth. Otabek pushed Yuri back so he fell onto the mattress, then climbed over him. He kissed down Yuri’s jaw, his neck, his collarbone. Yuri was just lucid enough to be able to unclip the hat from his head and fling it to one side before it got tangled in his hair.

“Cute dress,” Otabek murmured against the hollow of his throat. “It’s a shame.”

“What’s a shame?” Yuri asked.

Then he gasped as Otabek tore the dress open, the buttons flying off.

“That I had to ruin it,” Otabek growled against his chest.

And holy hell Yuri was so ridiculously turned on.

Otabek was kissing down Yuri’s ribs, his stomach, his hipbones. Yuri pushed himself up onto his elbows as Otabek sunk to the floor at the foot of the bed, kneeling between Yuri’s legs. His breath ghosted over Yuri’s hardness through the lacy panties. Yuri shuddered.

Very slowly, his fingers taking their time skimming over Yuri’s skin, Otabek undid the suspenders. He left the stockings on, but drew the suspenders and panties off. Yuri’s chest was rising and falling rapidly as Otabek’s mouth hovered over his exposed cock. Otabek took him in his hand. And then he looked up at him, and sunk his mouth onto Yuri’s head.

“Beka…” Yuri sighed, his brow furrowing and his lips parting as Otabek’s gaze broke from his.

Otabek’s lips were wet and flushed pink as they moved up and down Yuri’s shaft. Yuri bit his lip at the sight and then moaned as Otabek’s tongue rolled on the underside of his cock. His hands scrunched the duvet as his brow pinched. Then Otabek released him suddenly. He grabbed him around the waist, and Yuri let out a pleased little cry as Otabek hoisted him up the bed, dropping him on the pillows. He took the cuffs off Yuri and opened them before grabbing both of Yuri’s hands. Yuri arched up into Otabek as he cuffed him by the wrists to the headboard, his body already trembling in anticipation.

Otabek had left him in the stockings and ruined dress, but now he stood and started to undress himself, his eyes never leaving Yuri’s as he peeled each bit of clothing off, leaving the glasses on. Yuri strained against the handcuffs as he watched him, his eyes raking over Otabek’s stupidly good body.

Once he was undressed, Otabek put the doctor’s jacket back on, making Yuri hum with pleasure.

“Beka…” he breathed.

Otabek leant over him and stuffed the tie he’d just removed into Yuri’s mouth, making him moan in surprise and pleasure, his eyes wide as he stared at Otabek.

“No more talking,” Otabek said simply, his low rumble of a voice making the hairs on the back of Yuri’s neck stand up.

Yuri’s limbs were twitching even though Otabek wasn’t even touching him, his eyes desperate as he watched Otabek rummage in the side table. He moaned something that might’ve been “hurry up” if the tie hadn’t been preventing his speech. Otabek threw him a warning look before drawing lube and a condom out. He knelt between Yuri’s legs as he slicked his fingers up and pressed two to his entrance. Then he pushed in.

Yuri let out a muffled cry, his head thrown back as his spine arched up, his arms automatically coming together over his head. Otabek was so fucking good at finding his spot.

“Stop that,” Otabek said, pushing Yuri’s arms apart. “I want to see your face.”

Yuri let out a whimper, and relaxed back onto the mattress as he met Otabek’s eyes. Otabek gave him a lopsided, lazy smirk, his eyes hooded with lust. Then his gaze flicked down to where his long fingers were fucking into Yuri. His brow pinched and he let out a little “oh” at the sight. And that was it, Yuri came with a cry that might’ve been Otabek’s name if it wasn’t for the scarf. He’d already been ridiculously turned on, so he wasn’t even surprised he’d come so soon.

Otabek watched him as he writhed, his fingers still sliding in and out of him as Yuri saw stars. Eventually his body sagged, his legs flopping completely apart as Otabek drew his fingers out. Otabek tore the condom open and slipped it on.

“Hmm…” he hummed as he leant over Yuri, one hand supporting himself whilst the other slicked his cock with lube. “I love that glazed look you get when you’ve just come.”

And Yuri’s breathing was ragged as Otabek laid sloppy, open mouthed kisses down his neck and chest. He let out a muffled cry of surprise as Otabek suddenly flipped him over, the cuffs twisting around the thin pole they were attached to and his dress riding up.

The noise Yuri made when Otabek slapped his ass was subdued by the tie, but it was still a desperately loud cry.

“Does that feel good, kitten?” Otabek murmured, planting one hand next to Yuri on the pillow as he leant over him.

He slapped his arse again and Yuri’s whimper dissolved into a moan. He was getting hard again even before Otabek gave his ass one last slap. Yuri let out a strangled cry. And then Otabek was sliding his cock in, and Yuri was falling apart.

“You’ve been bad, kitten.”

Otabek’s lips ghosted over the skin behind Yuri’s ear as he spoke, and Yuri trembled in response. Otabek drew out slowly and then slammed back into Yuri. Yuri let out yet another cry, his head falling back against Otabek's shoulder, his eyes screwed shut.

“Am I going to have to punish you some more?”

Yuri could only whimper in response. Otabek chuckled and then knelt up, pulling Yuri’s hips up with him so he was leant on his knees and elbows. Then he set up a relentless pace. Yuri nearly collapsed back onto the mattress it felt so good, but Otabek grabbed a handful of his hair, pulling his head back with just the right amount of pressure and holding his hips steady with the other hand.

He kept fucking hitting that spot, and Yuri couldn't believe he was so close to coming again, Otabek’s dick stretching him, filling him up so good. Then Otabek slapped his ass and Yuri went careening over the edge again, moaning around the tie in his mouth as his load spilled onto the sheets.

Otabek slowed slightly, letting Yuri roll with his orgasm. When it finished Yuri’s arms gave way, and Otabek let him fall into his own mess. Otabek drew out and rolled Yuri back over. He was gentle with him now, laying soft kisses down Yuri’s jaw. Then he got up from the bed, slipping the condom off as he went.

Yuri tried to protest as he walked away, but he couldn't speak through the tie. Otabek just smirked at him over his shoulder as he went to the wardrobe. He opened it and Yuri watched him bend to the box at the back and realised what Otabek was going to do. He started to struggle against the cuffs, whimpering at the thought of Otabek using toys on him when he was already so overstimulated.

Otabek returned to the bed, a bright pink vibrator in his hand, and Yuri's eyes were desperate as he stared up at him.

“Now you're going to be a good kitten if I uncuff you, aren't you?” Otabek said, giving him a stern look over the top of his glasses.

Yuri gave a muffled groan and nodded in response.

“Good,” Otabek said.

He leant over and unlocked the cuffs, holding onto Yuri's wrists tightly so there was no chance of him breaking free. He pulled Yuri into a kneeling position before cuffing his hands behind his back. Yuri was trembling as Otabek lubed up the vibrator. It wasn’t as big as Otabek, but it had a fucking vibrate setting that Yuri knew would have him hard again in no time.

Otabek met his gaze as he reached around behind Yuri. Yuri’s expression was desperate as he stared back, his eyes pleading. He moaned as Otabek eased the vibrator into him. When it was fully in Otabek flicked it on.

Yuri collapsed forward against Otabek’s chest, his chin resting on his shoulder as he let out a string of curse words which were indistinguishable through the tie. He was jerking and twitching as the toy vibrated inside him, the sensation almost too much for him. Otabek let out a little moan in response and his shoulder started to move.

Yuri leant back, wide eyed as he watched Otabek touch himself. He was stunning, his stomach muscles clenched, his brow pinched and his lips slightly open. His hair was disheveled in a beautifully rugged way, a few strands falling onto his forehead. And he gripped Yuri’s thigh with his free hand, the other pumping his swollen dick as he watched Yuri fall apart.

Yuri tried to talk but he couldn’t get the words out. He gazed desperately at Otabek, having to try a few times before Otabek smirked and tugged the tie out of his mouth.

“What was that kitten?” Otabek asked.

“Please,” Yuri panted, his chest heaving as his body shook with tremors. “I want you in my mouth.”

Otabek’s hand faltered slightly as he rubbed himself.

“Please, Beka, I want it so bad. Just fuck my face.”

Otabek groaned and released himself. Then he dragged Yuri off the bed, Yuri stumbling slightly as he went. Otabek pushed him to his knees before him, before bending and unlocking the cuffs. Yuri’s hands slipped free and he looked up at Otabek in confusion, barely able to concentrate as the vibrator continued to stimulate him.

“Touch yourself,” Otabek instructed, straightening back up.

Yuri bit his lip, and took hold of his cock. Otabek met his eyes as he guided his cock to Yuri’s lips. Yuri took him in his mouth eagerly, his eyes falling shut and a groan escaping him as Otabek’s cock stretched his lips. He loved the weight of Otabek, how he throbbed in his mouth, and the vibrator and his own hand were bringing him close again.

He drew back, sucking at Otabek’s tip as he looked up at him, his tongue teasing the sensitive spot on the underside of the head. Otabek’s lips were parted, brow pinched and eyes burning behind his glasses as he stared down at Yuri sucking him, one hand coming to grip his shoulder. And then Yuri started to suck in earnest. His cheeks hollowed as Otabek’s hands came up to hold his head, gently fucking into his mouth with little thrusts that matched Yuri’s movements. He was trembling and Yuri could tell he was close as he rolled his tongue over the underside of his cock in time with his sucks. His own cock was desperate, the vibrator still working him as he stroked himself in desperate movements.

“Come for me, kitten,” Otabek murmured.

The command had Yuri groaning around Otabek’s cock as he came. And there wasn't even anymore cum in him, just moans and whimpers of pleasure.

The sight of him coming for a third time was apparently enough for Otabek because he swore and his load filled Yuri’s mouth. Yuri was shaking as he sucked Otabek to the end, his own hand gradually slowing down on himself. Eventually Otabek drew his cock out shakily and Yuri swallowed, his eyes bright as he looked up at him.

Otabek crouched down and kissed him, reaching around to turn off and pull out the vibrator. Yuri shuddered as it went, his head falling forwards onto Otabek’s shoulder. Otabek left him knelt on the floor for a moment, the vibrator abandoned as he stripped the sheets off the bed and put on some clean ones. He removed the doctor's coat and glasses before he returned and swept Yuri up into his arms.

Yuri hummed in pleasure as Otabek turned and placed him gently down onto the bed. He helped Yuri out of the stockings and ruined dress, cleaning Yuri’s stomach with wet wipes and gentle strokes. Then Otabek lay down beside him, tucking them both in and pulling Yuri under his arm to lay his head on his chest.

“That was amazing,” Otabek sighed. “Thank you for doing all that.”

“S’okay,” Yuri mumbled, feeling sleepy and content. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” Otabek returned, kissing the top of his head.

Yes, Yuri thought to himself, a little smile on his face as sleep tugged at him. He looked good in uniform.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Otabek in glasses, amirite?


	8. Mouthful of Seawater

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter dedicated to Kate and Xena_146 for their ideas! I love this suggestions things, means I can write what you guys actually wanna see, keep 'em coming!

Have you ever loved someone so much you couldn’t breath?

 

The beach was windswept and stormy. Moody clouds hung low in a grey sky, the pine trees of the forest which ran down to meet the beach whipped back by the wind. Waves laced with a seafoam frill battered the stubborn sand as gulls cried, riding the wind’s slipstream.

 

Yuri was watching Otabek as he ran back towards him, his dark hair windswept and his cheeks flushed from the wind. Yuri’s face was half covered by his thick scarf, large green eyes narrowed against the wind as he stood with his shoulders hunched and his hands deep in his coat pockets.

 

The idea of visiting the coast in the off season had seemed like a good idea, what with the prices of cottages to rent being cheaper than in the summer. And it had been nice, other than the constant cold.

 

Otabek reached Yuri as the first raindrop fell on the blonde’s cheek. Yuri looked up at the sky.

 

“We better head back to the car, it’s starting to rain,” Yuri said, his voice muffled by his scarf.

 

“Okay,” Otabek agreed, and they turned towards the treeline.

 

They climbed up the bank to the forest’s edge, sticking close together as the wind lashed at them. When they were amongst the trunks the noise of the storm dropped a little, the pine trees around them taking the brunt of it. An odd twilight hung between the trees, despite it being midday. The little light that made it through the canopy to the forest floor was a sombre grey-green, beautiful in its melancholy.

 

Yuri and Otabek picked their way back to the little path on which the rental car was parked, their feet crunching over pine needles and twigs. Otabek unlocked the little red car and they both bundled inside. Otabek jammed the keys in the ignition and the radio flickered into life along with the heating.

 

“Don’t,” Yuri said, as Otabek’s hand went to release the handbrake. “Let’s stay here for a little while.”

 

“Stay?” Otabek repeated, raising an eyebrow at Yuri.

 

“Yes,” Yuri replied, his eyes distant as he stared out at the trees. “I like it here.”

 

“Okay,” Otabek agreed.

 

The radio was playing Elvis’  _ Blue Christmas _ , which was weird because it was February. The old speakers made it sound like it was being played on a vinyl, which made Yuri smile. This is how it was supposed to be heard.

 

He turned and climbed into the backseat so as to stretch out better. Otabek followed, and Yuri reached back to retrieve the blanket from where it was folded over the back of the seats and draped it over them. Then he lay his head on Otabek’s shoulder and stared out into the trees.

 

“You okay?” Otabek asked, his hand reaching across under the blanket to take Yuri’s.

 

They’d always been comfortable with displays of friendly affection like this; holding hands as they walked, laying their heads in each other’s laps, cuddling on the sofa. Sometimes it made Yuri’s chest ache; to be this close to Otabek and to not really have him. Not like he wanted to.

 

“Mmm,” Yuri confirmed, feeling almost sleepy with the comforting solidness of Otabek beside him.

 

“You seem quiet,” Otabek pressed.

 

“I’m fine,” Yuri returned, although he wasn’t really, couldn’t be when Otabek was so near yet so far.

 

“Okay,” Otabek said.

 

_ But I’ll have a blue, blue blue blue Christmas _

 

Otabek leant forwards between the front seats and retrieved the flask of tea they’d bought with them. He unscrewed the lid and poured them a cup each. Yuri sighed, leaning into Otabek’s side as he cradled the little plastic mug.

 

“Warm enough?” Otabek asked.

 

“Yeah,” Yuri murmured.

 

He was twenty-one now, and his problem with Otabek had been going on pretty much since they’d become reacquainted. Otabek had rode into his life like some kind of white knight, except with a beast of a motorbike instead of a horse, and a leather jacket instead of armour. Yuri had been lost from then on. What chance did he have against Otabek’s eyes, his sharp jaw, his intoxicating voice?

 

“I could live here,” Yuri sighed, feeling the tug of the sea and the quiet of the trees.

 

“Yeah?” Otabek asked.

 

“Yeah it’s nice… quiet,” Yuri said, his voice soft.

 

“Never pegged you as one for the quiet life,” Otabek said with a little chuckle. “Me however… I could read books all day here.”

 

“No gigs though,” Yuri pointed out.

 

Otabek shrugged.

 

“Don’t know if that would matter so much,” he said. “With the sea and the forest… it’d be nice.”

 

“Mmm,” Yuri agreed, sipping his tea.

 

There was a pause.

 

“Where would we live?” Otabek asked, and Yuri smiled at his fantasy involving them living together. “In the village?”

 

“No,” Yuri said. “In that little cottage we saw on the cliff. We would always be able to see the sea then.”

 

“Mmm that’d be nice,” Otabek agreed. “Cold though.”

 

“We’d have a log fire,” Yuri returned. “And lots of hot chocolate.”

 

“With marshmallows?”

 

“Of course.”

 

They were both smiling, caught up in the idea of their fantasy home that’d never happen. They were too restless for such a life. Competing in international skating competitions will do that to you.

 

“Do you ever wish you’d done something else as a career?” Yuri asked, gazing down into his mug.

 

“Not especially, I love skating,” Otabek shrugged. “And I get to DJ on the side.”

 

“So no regrets?” Yuri pressed.

 

“Well I didn’t say that,” Otabek returned.

 

Yuri looked up at him. Otabek was gazing out of the window, watching the fat raindrops fall through the canopy.

 

“What regrets do you have?” Yuri asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

 

“Only one,” Otabek said.

 

“What?”

 

Otabek turned to him, and his eyes were sad.

 

“If I told you it could ruin everything,” he whispered, like a secret shared between them.

 

Their faces were very close. Another melancholy, bluesy song was on the radio, the patter of rain on the window adding to its percussion.

 

“What could it ruin?” Yuri whispered back, his green eyes gazing into Otabek’s dark ones.

 

“Us,” Otabek said simply, and there was something there behind his irises.

 

“Nothing could ruin us,” Yuri returned.

 

“You don’t know that,” Otabek said, his whisper ghosting over Yuri’s cheek.

 

“Tell me anyway,” Yuri said, his eyes bright, a suspicion growing in the back of his mind.

 

“Paris,” Otabek said simply, and Yuri knew instantly, knew the moment he spoke of, but he asked anyway.

 

“What about Paris?” Yuri asked, still whispering, not wanting to break this thing that was hanging between them.

 

It had been almost a year ago. He and Otabek had been standing on the balcony of Yuri’s hotel room after a very successful day of competing. They could see the eiffel tower in the distance, lit up against the night sky like some giant Christmas tree. Yuri had had one too many glasses of wine and was laughing, stumbling against Otabek’s chest as his long hair whipped around his head in the breeze. Music from a jazz bar in the street below filtered up to them, and Yuri drew Otabek into a lazy dance, both of their mouths wine stained and grinning.

 

Otabek had twirled him out, Yuri nearly tripping, before spinning him back in against his chest. Yuri had looked up at him from where he leant, his eyes bright and his cheeks flushed. And the smiles had slowly slipped from their faces.

 

“Beka…” Yuri had murmured, their lips inches apart.

 

And then Otabek had stepped back. He’d coughed, looking awkwardly off to the side before suggesting that they get something to eat to offset the booze. And Yuri’s heart had broken.

 

He’d tried to act normally over their remaining few days together, but he found himself sobbing into his pillow at night, his chest aching with the awful, terrible burden of unrequited love.

 

In the present Otabek’s pupils were blown wide. The song on the radio switched to one that Yuri recognised from a film. He thought it might be called  _ Kissing You _ .

 

_ Leo, faces many trials _

_ But holds his head up high _

 

“I should have…” Otabek started, before swallowing, a little frown crinkling his brow. “I should have kissed you.”

 

Yuri’s heart skittered over a beat. There was a ringing in his ears.

 

“Why didn’t you?” he whispered.

 

“You’d been drinking,” Otabek said. “I didn’t want… didn’t want to take advantage.”

 

A lopsided smile hitched up one corner of Yuri’s mouth.

 

“Beka,” he breathed. “I’ve always wanted you.”

 

“You have?” Otabek asked quietly, his eyes widening with surprise, as though he couldn’t quite believe this was how it was turning out.

 

“More than anything,” Yuri said.

 

And then Otabek was kissing him, their empty mugs tumbling to the floor as their lips met. His mouth was warm and soft against Yuri’s, his hands coming up to tilt Yuri’s head back. And Yuri melted. He sagged against Otabek, the other man’s arm going around his waist to hold him up, Yuri’s hands on Otabek’s chest.

 

_ But watching stars without you _

_ My soul cries. _

 

And Yuri  _ was  _ seeing stars, tasting galaxies on Otabek’s lips, glimpsing eternity in his touch. He opened his mouth and let their tongues entwine, sighed into Otabek’s mouth, so full he thought he’d choke on it.

 

“Beka,” Yuri sighed against his mouth, and Otabek let out a low hum of approval, deepening the kiss.

 

“Beka,” Yuri said again, this time breaking from the kiss to gaze into Otabek’s eyes. “I want you.”

 

Otabek’s eyes widened.

 

“I… Yuri you’re… you’ve never…”

 

“Had sex?” Yuri finished for him with a smirk.

 

Otabek swallowed and nodded.

 

“I trust you,” Yuri murmured, closing his eyes as he rested his forehead against Otabek’s.

 

Yuri heard Otabek swallow again and smiled to himself.

 

“If… you’re sure,” Otabek agreed, still resting his forehead against Yuri’s as he reached up to tuck Yuri’s hair behind his ear. “But shouldn’t we go back to the cottage? You’re first time shouldn’t be in the backseat of a car.”

 

“But I like it here,” Yuri said leaning back to look out the window. “I like the trees.”

 

Otabek’s hand came up and he smoothed his thumb over Yuri’s bottom lip, making Yuri’s gaze shift back to him.

 

“Okay,” he said after a moment.

 

Yuri kissed him.

 

“I want you to know,” Yuri said, his words ghosting over Otabek’s lips. “Before we do… I love you.”

 

Otabek’s grip tightened momentarily where his hand rested on Yuri’s hip.

 

“You don’t have to say it back,” Yuri continued. “I just wanted you to know.”

 

“Yura…” Otabek sighed, leaning back and cupping Yuri’s face in one hand. “Of course I love you… you are my sun.”

 

And how could he just say things like that? Just push Yuri over the edge of a cliff so his heart was in his throat and he was furiously blinking back tears.

 

Then Otabek was pushing him down against the seat, their mouths moulded together, their breathing heavy. Yuri tugged off his scarf, then his coat, Otabek’s mouth still on his as he leant up slightly, Otabek’ helping him push the coat off his shoulders. Then Yuri was pushing Otabek’s coat off, their chests rising and falling rapidly.

 

Yuri flopped back onto the seat, his head thudding against the door, Otabek slipping between Yuri’s legs, his hips pushing down and making the blonde whimper, Yuri’s hands on Otabek’s jaw. It was cramped, but they barely noticed, Otabek grinding against Yuri, the younger man arching up into him, moaning into the kiss, longing for more, begging for it.

 

“Please, Beka,” Yuri panted, barely keeping it together as Otabek’s hardening cock pressed into his own erection. “I need… need…”

 

“What do you need, kitten?” Otabek asked, his voice a low rumble that made the hairs on the back of Yuri’s neck stand up.

 

“I  — I don’t know… you… I need you,” he gasped.

 

_ ‘Cause I’m kissing you. _

_ ‘Cause I’m kissing you. _

 

Otabek was kissing down his neck, messy, hot. He pushed Yuri’s hoodie up, kissing along his bottom rib, mouthing at his stomach, sucking on his hipbone. It had gotten hot in the car, what with the heating and their raised body temperatures. Yuri tugged his hoodie and the t-shirt beneath it over his head. Otabek sat back on his heels to allow him to do so, letting his eyes rove over the exposed skin. He laid a hand on Yuri’s hip.

 

“Beautiful,” he breathed.

 

Yuri swallowed, and Otabek’s eyes flicked up to his. His hands went to Yuri’s belt and his eyes were questioning. Yuri nodded. Otabek tugged the belt off then set to work on the button of his jeans. A moment later and his jeans were falling into the footwell along with his shoes and socks.

 

Otabek kissed the inside of Yuri’s exposed knee, his eyes sliding shut as his fingers stroked down Yuri’s thighs. Yuri trembled. Then Otabek was pushing him back to lean on the door, bending so his breath danced over Yuri’s clothed hardness.

 

“I’ve wanted to taste you for so long,” Otabek murmured, his lips ghosting over Yuri’s cock through the material of his boxers.

 

Yuri was gasping for breath, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly open as he looked down at Otabek between his legs. Very slowly, Otabek drew his boxers off. Yuri blushed as he was exposed. He’d seen Otabek in only boxers before and could tell he was big even without seeing the thing. Yuri was average, maybe a little bigger. But Otabek hummed in pleasure at the sight of him, then took him in his hand.

 

“Beka…” Yuri sighed as Otabek sunk his mouth onto him.

 

Otabek hummed around him, apparently enjoying this as much as Yuri was. He sucked at Yuri’s tip, before sinking his lips right to the base, his tongue rolling over the underside.

 

“Fuck.”

 

Yuri’s head fell back against the steamed up window, his eyes sliding shut as Otabek sucked him. He couldn’t stop his body twitching, his limbs jerking as Otabek’s mouth made him feel like he was on the verge of breaking.

 

“Beka, fuck, stop,” Yuri gasped, tugging lightly at Otabek’s hair.

 

Otabek released him, looking slightly disappointed. Yuri grinned.

 

“You’ll make me come too soon,” he said, running his thumb down Otabek’s cheek as the older man gazed up at him, his lips wet and flushed.

 

“I want to make you come,” Otabek said, his eyes dark with lust.

 

“Mm, but I want to come with you inside me,” Yuri returned, pushing his thumb into Otabek’s mouth.

 

Otabek moaned, his eyes slipping shut as he sucked obediently on Yuri’s thumb. Yuri bit his lip, before drawing his thumb out, dragging Otabek’s bottom lip down so he was the picture of wanton lust.

 

“There’s vaseline in my bag,” Yuri said, Otabek’s eyes opening again to look at him. “Will that work?”

 

“Yeah I think so,” Otabek said, turning to lean over the seat into the boot, drawing Yuri’s cat backpack into his lap.

 

He dug out the vaseline before dumping the bag back, his head bent slightly against the roof of the car. Yuri reached out and dragged Otabek’s long sleeved top over his head. He hummed in approval at the sight of Otabek’s body. He laid a hand on his abdomen, feeling the firm muscles tense in response to his touch. Otabek’s shoulders were broad, his waist beautifully small in comparison. His skin was tanned over his amazing abs, the dark to Yuri’s light.

 

Otabek undid his belt and dragged his jeans, boots, and socks off. Yuri sat up and laid a hand on the bulge in Otabek’s boxers. He looked up as he started to rub and Otabek trembled.

 

“Is it going to hurt?” Yuri whispered, his hand pausing as his eyes flicked down Otabek’s clothed crotch.

 

Otabek reached up to cup Yuri’s cheek.

 

“No,” he said. “I’ll make sure you’re prepared right.”

 

Yuri leant into his touch, his eyes falling shut. Then Otabek bent and kissed him. He coated his fingers in vaseline.

 

“Turn around,” Otabek instructed, and Yuri did so, kneeling in front of Otabek with his hands braced on the armrest of the door.

 

Otabek kissed up his shoulder, one hand on Yuri’s chest. Yuri shuddered as his fingers slipped between his cheeks. Then, very slowly, Otabek pushed a finger in. Yuri gasped.

 

“Are you okay?” Otabek asked his hand pausing.

 

Yuri nodded, unable to respond. Otabek’s finger slid in deeper. Then he crooked it.

 

“Nnnggh,” Yuri groaned, his arms nearly giving way as Otabek hit that spot inside him.

 

Otabek swept Yuri's long hair over his shoulder and kissed the base of his neck. Yuri’s arms shook. Otabek rubbed the spot a few times, making sure Yuri was fully relaxed, then he slid in a second digit. And Otabek started to fuck into him with his long fingers.

 

Yuri was shaking, the most ridiculous sounds coming from him as Otabek’s fingers worked magic. The warmth of Otabek's breath disappeared from the back of his neck as he leant back to look down at where his fingers slid in and out of Yuri.

 

“Oh kitten,” Otabek murmured, his voice even lower with his arousal. “You look so good like this.”

 

Yuri could only whimper.

 

“Beka… please… need you,” Yuri panted out, his nails digging into the plastic of the armrest.

 

“Not yet,” Otabek sighed against the back of his neck.

 

Otabek worked him with his fingers for what felt like forever, until Yuri was a trembling, moaning mess, practically sobbing as he begged Otabek to fuck him.

 

Otabek withdrew his fingers and Yuri half collapsed against the door. Then Otabek was slipping off his boxers, slicking his cock up, which was rock hard from watching Yuri come apart. He gently pulled Yuri against his chest and positioned himself against Yuri's entrance. Yuri could feel the heat of him between his cheeks, how hard he was. Then he latched his mouth onto the juncture between Yuri’s neck and shoulder. He sucked as he slid the head of his cock in. Yuri’s knuckles turned white where he gripped the armrest.

 

“Okay, kitten?” Otabek asked, his lips dancing over Yuri's pale skin.

 

Yuri nodded, trying to adjust to the feeling. Then his walls relaxed and Otabek slid in all the way.

 

“Beka,” Yuri sighed.

 

His head fell to the side to give Otabek access to his neck as he started cautious little thrusts. One of Yuri’s hands joined Otabek's on his hip. The car was filled with the sound of the rain, blues, and their heavy breathing.

 

Otabek gently pressed Yuri’s hips so they were angled a little more down and slid in again. Yuri gasped.

 

“Fuck, oh fuck Beka,” Yuri panted, his head falling back as his spine arched.

 

Otabek’s hand fell away from where it rested against Yuri’s chest, coming to grip Yuri's other hip, and his thrusts went deeper, faster. Yuri let out a desperate moan.

 

“Fuck… Yura... you're so tight,” Otabek managed to choke out, his hips snapping against Yuri.

 

“I want... to see your face,” Yuri gasped.

 

Otabek slid out and sat down on the seat. Yuri turned and climbed onto his lap to straddle him, his feet planted on the seat to give himself leverage. He leant back against the front passenger seat as Otabek held his cock for Yuri to sink down on. Then Yuri started to ride Otabek.

 

“Fuck, fucking… god.”

 

Otabek was rambling, switching between English and Kazakh, his brow furrowed and his eyes scrunched shut as his shoulders curled inwards, his head drooping slightly. Yuri caught his chin, his other hand still on Otabek’s shoulder. He tilted his face up.

 

“Look at me,” Yuri breathed, and Otabek opened his eyes.

 

Otabek whimpered.

 

“You're… beautiful,” Otabek managed to say.

 

Yuri kissed him. He fell back against the back of the front seat as Otabek took hold of his cock.

 

“Beka, Beka yes,” he gasped, his back arching, his mouth falling open.

 

“Do you have any idea… how long I’ve wanted to do this?” Otabek was saying, his words breathy and strained, his muscles tensed as Yuri rode him. “To see you come apart… to have you completely?”

 

Otabek’s words were doing the trick, Yuri barely lucid, his mouth making the filthiest sounds as he rose and fell repeatedly.

 

“I want you to come for me, Yura,” Otabek murmured, and Yuri trembled, so close, so very close.

 

Otabek’s thumb swiped over the tip of his cock and that was it. He cried out as he came, painting his thighs and Otabek’s stomach with his load. The clench of his muscles tipped Otabek over the edge, and his body curled instinctively inwards, his head on Yuri’s shoulder as Yuri’s name fell repeatedly from his mouth, a prayer and a mantra.

 

Yuri didn’t stop until both of them were spent, his hips stuttering as he slowed down. They were both breathing heavily, bodies twitching with aftershocks. Otabek raised his head and kissed Yuri, soft and sloppy. Then they rested their foreheads together, Otabek starting to go soft inside Yuri.

 

Otabek leant back slightly and swept Yuri’s hair behind his ear, a soft smile on his face as their eyes met.

 

“Hi,” he whispered.

 

“Hi,” Yuri returned, a smile cracking across his flushed lips.

 

They stayed that way for a few moments, Otabek cradling Yuri to him as they both came down from their high. Then Yuri raised himself off Otabek and leant between the front seats to dig a box of tissues out of the glove compartment. He cleaned them both with gentle touches, sat beside Otabek as the older man laid soft little kisses along the pale skin of Yuri’s shoulder. Then he turned and rubbed away some of the fog from the window to see outside.

 

“Looks like it’s stopped raining,” he said.

 

“Mmm,” Otabek hummed, sucking on his shoulder.

 

Yuri laughed.

 

“Stop that.” He swatted Otabek away.

 

Otabek just gathered him in his arms and dragged him down to lay across the backseat with him. The radio had gone to adverts.

 

“ _ I’ll have a blue Christmas without you _ ,” Yuri sang, his head on Otabek’s chest.

 

“It’s February,” Otabek pointed out, stroking Yuri’s hair.

 

“So? The radio was playing it,” Yuri returned. “ _ I’ll be so blue just thinking about you, decorations of red on a green Christmas tree. _ ”

 

Otabek drew his mouth up to his and kissed him, putting an end to the singing.

 

“If kissing you is the only way to shut you up I’ll gladly do it forever,” Otabek said, the curve of his smile against Yuri’s mouth.

 

“I can’t work out if that’s an insult or a compliment,” Yuri laughed.

 

“Bit of both,” Otabek said with a grin. “I love kissing you but your voice is awful.”

 

Yuri laughed.

 

“Rude,” he said, grinning despite himself.

 

“You like my singing though, don’t you, kitten?” Otabek teased.

 

Yuri did in fact like Otabek’s singing. He had a lovely baritone voice that brought out goosebumps on Yuri’s arms. Otabek tended to sing whilst cooking, and Yuri loved it.

 

“Well you’ve got me there,” Yuri agreed.

 

They stayed cuddled in the backseat for a while, playing with each other’s fingers as they chatted. Yuri was always able to make Otabek laugh, a lovely sound that rumbled from his chest and made Yuri grin. Yuri was drunk on the feeling of Otabek, his solidness, his arms around him, his lips against his.

 

Eventually they got dressed and climbed into the front seats. They wiped the windows free of fog and Otabek put the car into gear before turning it around. Yuri lay his head on Otabek’s shoulder and smiled.

  
He was so in love that he could breath.


	9. Mouthful of Music

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter dedicated to Kate for DJ Otabek suggestion!

There's nothing quite like feeling a bass line thrumming through your chest. And there's nothing quite like watching your boyfriend make that bass line.

 

Yuri was caught in the rippling mass of people dancing to Otabek’s music. The club was dark and smokey. Lights strobed out across the crowd, momentarily illuminating the faces of his fellow dancers. It was hot enough that he was grateful he'd worn his waist length hair in a messy side plait, which lay against his shoulder with a comforting weight. The flashing lights and low ceilings made Yuri feel as though he'd slipped into some kind tear between realms, the whole place indistinct through machine generated smoke.

 

But Otabek, Otabek was golden. He was bathed in red light, one hand holding half of his headphones to his ear, the other doing all sorts of magic with the switches and sliders in front of him.

 

Mila and Sara were dancing next to Yuri, too wrapped up in each other to notice anything else. This suited Yuri just fine. He watched his boyfriend perform with a fierce sort of pride, his hips swaying slightly to the music. The build for the drop came and people started whooping, hands in the air as the tension grew. Otabek made them wait for it, one hand up, rolling with the beat as it built.

 

**_LET’S GET FUCKIN’ HAMMERED NOW_ **

 

And the beat dropped.

 

It was like an elastic band being released, a cheer went up as everyone threw themselves into it, fists pumped in the air and bodies swayed to the beat.

 

Yuri could only grin at his boyfriend. He watched his experienced hands fly over the deck as he gave the crowd exactly what they wanted. Strands of hair had flopped onto his forehead, his face serious with concentration. He was wearing a loose black top with the sleeves cut off to make gaping arm holes, a tiger splashed across the front just for Yuri. He was beautiful, perfect, and far more than Yuri could have ever hoped for.

 

Twenty minutes later and Otabek was swapping with another DJ, a generic beat playing as they he gripped his hand and bumped shoulders before stepping down from the stage. Yuri was waiting for him.

 

“You were incredible,” Yuri purred into Otabek’s ear as he flung his arms around him.

 

The thrill of being able to touch Otabek, feel his solid weight against his chest, have his arms around him, never grew old.

 

“Thanks, kitten,” Otabek returned, his low voice a soft thrum against Yuri’s cheek as he laid a kiss there. “Drink?”

 

“Please,” Yuri agreed.

 

They downed shots at the bar, neither of them wanting to carry drinks, and returned to the dance floor. Mila and Sara were a little way off, hands clasped as they danced. Otabek spun Yuri to face the stage so they could watch as Otabek’s friend played. His hands were on Yuri’s hips, his chest solid against Yuri’s back.

 

At twenty Yuri had caught up to Otabek in height, and he reckoned he still had some growing left to do. But Otabek always seemed bigger, more solid, his strong arms and wide shoulders perfect for lifting Yuri, which he often did much to Yuri’s delight.

 

Yuri swayed his hips slightly, him and Otabek falling into a rhythm. The music throbbed through them, making Yuri feel high even though he hadn't taken anything. Otabek reached up and placed his fingertips on Yuri’s chest. They beat out the rhythm there, the bass line seeming to follow his fingers rather than the other way around. And his breath was hot on Yuri’s neck, his nose buried in the hair just behind Yuri’s ear as their hips moved together, and Jesus Christ did he always have to be so goddamn irresistible.

 

Yuri felt the beat build again, the crowd desperate for it, bodies taught, hands high. Otabek’s hands smoothed down his sides, coming to rest on his hips, their bodies pressing closer together. Yuri reached up with one hand and looped it around the back of Otabek’s neck, holding his head to his neck where Otabek was mouthing kisses, Yuri’s head tilting to give him better access.

 

_ Dun, dun, dun, dun, dun, dun, dun,  _ **_DROP IT_ **

 

There was a roar from the crowd at the drop and Yuri couldn't help the grin that broke across his face. He and Otabek bent slightly at the knees, their hips grinding together. Yuri felt the hitch in Otabek's breathing against his back and the older man squeezed Yuri’s hips slightly.

 

“Yura.”

 

Otabek’s voice made him shudder and his eyes slipped shut momentarily. Then he span and slotted his legs either side of Otabek’s thigh, flinging his arms around Otabek’s neck. Otabek bit his lip as Yuri lead him to bend his knees again, bodies flush against each other. Yuri smirked. Then he kissed him.

 

It was sloppy, tongues exploring each other's mouths as their hips rolled. The lights strobed against Yuri’s eyelids. He barely noticed the other bodies bumping into them.

 

“Yura,” Otabek said again when their lips parted.

 

“Bathroom,” Yuri said, and broke from  Otabek to drag him through the crowd.

 

It was hot and Yuri’s breathing was jagged, his head foggy as he made a beeline for the toilets sign. He and Otabek fell through the door, hands pressed to their mouths to stifle their laughter as they hurried past the men at the urinals. They slammed themselves into a cubicle, not caring who saw.

 

Otabek’s hands were on him as soon as Yuri slid the lock home. He was pressed up against the door as Otabek crowded him, his mouth falling open as his head tilted back, opening to Otabek’s touch with a stifled moan. Their hips ground together and Yuri cursed the denim between them. Otabek sucked on Yuri’s neck as his hands tugged at Yuri’s belt.

 

Yuri’s jeans were being pushed down a moment later and then Otabek's hands were on him, rubbing him through the fabric of his boxers.

 

“Mmph,” Yuri huffed against Otabek's mouth, trying to pull his belt off too.

 

He managed it a moment later before tugging Otabek’s jeans and boxers down just enough.

 

“Yura,” Otabek sighed when Yuri took hold of him.

 

Yuri pushed Otabek back against the wall of the cubicle before sinking to his knees. Otabek bit down on his knuckle when Yuri's mouth enveloped him. Yuri lapped at the precum pearling at Otabek’s head, his tongue teasing the underside between sucks. Otabek grabbed a fistful of his hair, knowing how Yuri liked it when he pulled it. Yuri stifled a groan as Otabek started to fuck into his mouth with little thrusts of his hips. His jaw ached with the stretch of Otabek, his mouth full, his throat abused.

 

Then Otabek was tugging lightly at his hair, guiding Yuri to stand again. He met him in a messy kiss, pushed him back against the opposite wall. He pushed Yuri's boxers down, his lips hot on Yuri’s neck. Then Otabek took them both into his hand. Yuri bit his lip to stifle the cry that tried to rip itself from his chest. Otabek was hot and still wet from his mouth, hard and throbbing slightly as he rubbed against Yuri. Yuri bucked his hips desperately, a little whimper escaping him as Otabek rubbed them both.

 

Otabek’s hand was perfect, tight around Yuri and pressing them flush together. Their hips rolled, Otabek’s mouth on Yuri's neck, Yuri’s hand in Otabek's hair.

 

Otabek sunk his teeth into Yuri’s pulse and Yuri gasped.

 

“Beka…” he panted out, his hips jerky and his legs shaking as he pulled their tops up out of the way. “‘M close.”

 

“Yes, Yura,” Otabek half growled against his neck. “Come for me… come now.”

 

And the command had Yuri’s limbs shuddering, his mouth falling open in a silent cry, his hands gripping onto Otabek. Otabek kept on thrusting against him, the wetness of Yuri’s cum making him whimper and jerk. Then he too was falling, gasping against Yuri’s neck, his hips stuttering, his knees shaking.

 

Otabek thrust a few more times against Yuri, the younger man’s eyes rolling back, his body going limp. Otabek was kissing him, but Yuri could barely respond, his chest heaving, his eyelids heavy.

 

He gradually came round, responding to Otabek’s lips, his hands coming to cup Otabek's jaw. Then Otabek broke away, resting his forehead against Yuri’s as they both caught their breath.

 

Otabek turned slightly to grab a handful of toilet paper and wiped his hand clean. He'd managed to contain most of the mess, but he still had to wipe Yuri’s stomach.

 

“This gonna be a regular thing when I DJ?” Otabek asked, a smirk hitching up one side of his mouth as he focused on wiping Yuri’s stomach.

 

“If you continue to be so goddamn hot whilst you're doing it then yes,” Yuri returned. “And shut up.”

 

Otabek chuckled, chucking the toilet paper in the pan before hitching his jeans up. Yuri pulled his own jeans up and they took a moment to straighten themselves before exiting the stall.

 

The energy was still high when they went back onto the dance floor. Otabek was able to dance with Yuri for another ten minutes before he had to go back up.

 

Yuri found Mila and Sara again, who greeted him happily, pulling him in to dance. He looked up at the stage and saw Otabek slipping the headphones on, the sharp angles of his cheekbones exaggerated by the red spotlight.

  
Yuri bit his lip and smiled. He'd need to take Otabek straight home after this set. And yes, this would definitely be a regular thing when Otabek played DJ.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big love to everyone who's taken the time to leave comments and kudos, honestly it makes me so happy to read what you guys have to say, so encouraging!


	10. Mouthful of Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY so this chapter's a little different, more like my usual writing style, sorry if it's weird!

Yuri loves him so much he's coming unstitched. Back when Otabek first cradled his heart in carefully cupped hands, when he laid sacred kisses on unworthy lips, Yuri had known salvation.

It's moments like these, when the sunlight falls like honey through the air, dustmotes heavy with it and everything silent, that Yuri can properly look at him. And he traces promises into his lover’s skin.

He is asleep. Is there anything so beautiful? Can anything compare to the sighs he makes, like the whisper of a tide that drags at Yuri, makes him feel like the mattress under his elbow is tilted on an axis central to Otabek.

Yuri is summer and soft smiles, so happy he could fall.

The bedding is twisted around them, making sand dunes over their bodies as Yuri’s fingertips ghost love on Otabek's skin.

He watches Otabek’s lashes flutter on his cheeks. His lips are swollen from slumber, ripe fruit for Yuri to consume.

Otabek turns in his sleep, his shoulder cresting into a wave before it crashes into the shore of the mattress, face now half buried in the pillow. Yuri smiles. The kind of smile that hints at tears but leaves them for laughter.

Yuri leans in, breath ghosting over a tanned shoulder blade, lips brushing sleep warm skin.

“Beka,” Yuri sighs, his own little morning prayer.

Otabek stirs. The voice of his lover tugs at him, before he sinks back down. Yuri smiles against his shoulder, teeth on skin.

“Beka,” he says again, moving to murmur it into his boyfriend’s ear.

Otabek wakes. Home, heart.

He throws a heavy arm over Yuri, movements foggy, hair mussed, and pulls him into his chest. Otabek releases a sigh, muscles pooling back into the mattress.

“Good morning, kotenok.”

His voice is morning rough, accent heavier than in the civilised hours, and Yuri burns under it.

“Good morning,” Yuri whispers, closing his eyes as he presses his face to Otabek's chest, breathing him in. He could say he smells as sweet as a rose, but that is wrong. He is man. Pine and warm skin, plus something underneath; undeniable, musky and pulling Yuri under.

He kisses up Otabek’s neck. Otabek’s chest hums with approval. Yuri shifts, mouthing at his sharp jaw, stubble scratching lips. Otabek turns to meet his lips, breath sharp from morning.

Then Otabek is slipping between his legs, bodies melting together, languid, needy. Otabek is making sleepy little murmurs as he lays kisses down Yuri’s throat. Body worship. Lover’s tax.

The roll of his hips is ecstasy, moans a pill on Yuri's tongue, pupils blown wide. And it's small, slight, just enough to get him hard.

Yuri’s fingers are slender, wrists delicate as they let his hands hang loose, trail up Otabek’s back. The slim to Otabek’s solid. And Otabek is laying open mouthed kisses down Yuri's chest, breath heavy, lips dragging.

It’s like he’s slowly unpacking him, removing pieces from the box of Yuri, turning them over in his hands, laying them aside. Yuri’s lips are parted, breath fluttering, cheeks flushed. He buries one hand in his own long hair, a pool of gold on the pillow, as Otabek sucks on his hipbone.

Lube from the side table drawer, always there, ready for their hunger. It’s cold on Otabek’s fingers, making Yuri draw a sharp little breath. Otabek answers his smile, lip quirking, a shared joke. But when Otabek’s fingers slip into him all Yuri can do is sigh his name, body slowly arching, a lazy curl of his muscles.

Otabek’s fingers are dawdling, unhurried. They’re wonderful, long, curling, stretching inside Yuri. Dark eyes watch Yuri as he lets himself go with each gradual roll of his body. Otabek’s mouth joins and soon Yuri’s movements are less leisurely. He’s twitchy and begging, little moans escaping him. Then Otabek is over him again, fingers still inside him. And his mouth is so good, Yuri’s whimpering into it, pleading, anything, anything.

When Otabek slides into him Yuri’s eyes roll back. Everything’s achingly slow, so good it’s bringing tears to Yuri’s eyes. The weight of Otabek on top of him is perfect, pushing his legs apart, solid and all encompassing. Yuri slides his hands up the back of his undercut, rests their foreheads together. His body gently rocks with each of Otabek’s thrusts, one of Otabek’s hands behind his knee, pulling it up.

The spasms start, and Otabek whispers in his ear, loving how he’s falling apart. He never speeds up, just goes deeper, harder, makes Yuri’s whole body jerk, makes his face go slack and his shoulders curl inwards. Otabek watches him, not that Yuri can see with his eyes rolled back and his body trembling. But he does, watches his love lose control with each thrust.

It’s the throaty, growling murmur of “Yura” in the blonde’s ear that sends him over the edge, crying out as he claws at Otabek’s back, shakes uncontrollably, whimpers and moans.

Otabek’s climax is silent, bitten into Yuri’s shoulder. His body’s straining, fucking into Yuri with deep thrusts of his hips. Yuri’s overstimulated, a twitching mess. But with slow, heavy breaths they settle.

They share a deep, messy kiss with Otabek still buried inside Yuri. Their bodies are slightly sweaty, chests heaving.

They stay that way for a while, sharing heat.

“Hi,” Otabek whispers with a little smile, his hair tickling Yuri’s forehead as he gazes down at him.

“Hi,” Yuri replies, and returns that secret little smile.

Yuri’s loves him so much he's seeing forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kotenok - kitten


	11. Mouthful of Falling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to Babbling Badger for encouraging me to write in my own style more! You da best :D
> 
> This is like a hybrid of styles, not as heavy as Mouthful of Morning but not as simple as the other one shots in this collection. Let me know what you think! (Requests that I've said I'll do are on their way, this is just something that I had to get out of my system in between.)

Him. Only and forever, him.

 

They're lying on the ice rink, hard cold and splayed limbs. And to be by his side is the sweetest kind of poison. So good it hurts whilst it heals, kills whilst it pleasures.

 

The lights are off and it's quiet, dark corners and secret looks.

 

Otabek knows what he wants. He's always known. Because some men want money, and others women. But everything he's ever wanted, is lying beside him on the ice.

 

Yuri is stardust and seafoam, blonde hair and pale limbs. He's laughing at the ceiling, tasting happiness, friendship. And wouldn't it be lovely if that was enough? If being just them was enough to stop how much pain the distance between _being just them_ and what Otabek wants them to be caused him.

 

But of course it's enough. Because staying by Yuri’s side is holding onto a firework with your bare hands. It's jumping from a cliff into the ocean and it's running over rooftops in the rain.

 

It's what it means to be alive.

 

Yuri flashes him a grin and oh god how he loves him.

 

He's saying something, his brow furrowing as Otabek doesn't answer.

 

“I'm sorry?” Otabek asks, breaking the surface of his reverie, drawing breath after being submerged in Yuri.

 

“God, Otabek, did you knock out a few brain cells with that last fall?”

 

Yuri’s still smiling at him though, that lopsided little smirk that just eviserates Otabek.

 

“Da, maybe,” Otabek agrees with a smile and a shrug. Stardust and seafoam.

 

Yuri narrows his eyes at him, suspicious.

 

“Okay…” he says, and Otabek realises that he's got to be more careful.

 

But as Yuri keeps talking, Otabek doesn't want to be careful. He wants to light the firework, leap from the cliff, teeter on the rooftop.

 

Because there's something, isn't there? It's in the smile that he reserves just for Otabek, it's in the slight intake of breath when Otabek gets too close, and it's in the hurt in his eyes when he thinks Otabek isn't looking.

 

“Yuri…” he starts, and Yuri turns back to him, and there's nothing quite like being seen by Yuri Plisetsky.

 

Otabek has to take a breath.

 

And perhaps this is falling. Perhaps this is jumping.

 

“Yes?” Yuri asks, brow furrowing.

 

And if only he doesn't dash his feelings on the rocks at the bottom. If only he'd join him in this free fall.

 

“I…” Otabek starts, but the words are too hard to say. Because what if there's nothing but pain at the end of this sentence? What if there's no Yuri at the end of this confession?

 

_What if there's no Yuri at the end of this confession?_

 

“I…”

 

Otabek swallows, gazes helplessly at Yuri.

 

And Yuri doesn't rush him. Doesn't tell him to spit it out and doesn't roll his eyes like he usually would. He just stares back at him. Because maybe he knows.

 

Maybe he knows the weight of the thing that sits on Otabek’s chest, maybe he knows the beast and knows it's name. And maybe, maybe, maybe…

 

...He has his own little beast sitting on his chest.

 

So Otabek jumps.

 

“I love you.”

 

It's there. Hanging in the air. It's the whisper and it's the secret, it's the darkness and its light. It's his promise and everything in between. And it's Yuri looking back at him with a curious expression.

 

“I know you do, Beka, I love you to,” he says.

 

And fuck you Yuri Plisetsky, Otabek thinks. Because he _knows_ what Otabek means. He _knows_ that Otabek doesn't mean it like that. But he's testing him, as though this wasn't hard enough.

 

So Otabek sits up, goes to stand.

 

“Beka…” Yuri starts, and Otabek thinks he hears the panic in his voice, thinks maybe that it's Yuri’s little beast falling apart.

 

But it's not fucking _good enough_. Not when he can feel his throat closing, not when he wants to scream and this just hurts so fucking much. Not when it's everything he never wanted.

 

He stands, pushes off, blades on frozen water, pain on broken heart.

 

“Beka, wait.”

 

And now Otabek can hear the tears in Yuri’s voice.

 

He turns. Of course he does, because he couldn't stand to be the one to make him cry.

 

Yuri’s standing there, looking oh so small in the middle of the rink. His shoulders are hunched and his hands are shaking and was Otabek really the one who made him look like that?

 

He's taller than Otabek now. And even as Otabek's chest is cracking that little fact is always wonderful to behold. Yuri's long limbs are poetry, each movement a new stanza. And Otabek would speak every line if only he'd let him, test the rhyming pattern of Yuri Plisetsky’s body on his tongue as he worshipped his form.

 

Otabek doesn't speak though. He waits.

 

“I love you too.” And his voice is very small.

 

Otabek wishes that would make him happy, wishes that he could believe him. But he knows he's pushed this. It only makes his chest hurt more.

 

“Don't say that ‘cause you think you'll lose me, Yura,” Otabek says. And he's tired, oh so very tired.

 

“You'll never lose me,” Otabek continues. “I will love you as a friend forever and never ask for more if that's what makes you happy.”

 

“Happy?” Yuri laughs, sharp and humourless.

 

When he looks at Otabek it's hard, cold as the ice beneath his feet. He skates forwards, presses into Otabek’s space, prods him in the chest as he gets right up into his face. And isn't he a wonderful little pipe bomb?

 

“How could I be happy when I've been in love with my best friend ever since I was fifteen years old?” Yuri asks, and Otabek’s breath is just fucking gone from his lungs.

 

“How could I be happy when I love you so much that it scares me, and I love you so much that it's been eating at me, and I love you so much that —”

 

And they're kissing. Who moved first is hard to tell, but one moment Yuri is hurling words at him the next their mouths are mashed together. And Otabek’s hands are pulling Yuri against him, whilst Yuri’s hands are tangled in Otabek’s hair. And it's hard, and it's angry, and it's desperate, it's everything they've never said for six whole years boiled down into one furious kiss.

 

Then they're breaking apart, gasping for breath, foreheads resting together, hands still clinging to each other.

 

Yuri is the first to lean back, staying in the circle of Otabek's arms as his fingers trail down from his hair to his cheekbone, palms coming to cup his jaw.

 

“That I'd kiss you like that every day if you'd let me,” he finishes, and Otabek’s breaking.

 

Yuri never talks like this, with so much feeling. He's always sarcasm and irritation, very rarely saying what he really feels. But apparently Otabek has yanked the lever and released something that was just waiting inside the young Russian. What depths are these? What riddles to unravel?

 

Their next kiss is calmer, but with no less heat. Their bodies are flush together, coats rustling as their mouths melt. Yuri’s lips are chapped but soft, and Otabek loves that about him. Loves that there's still enough of the irresponsible teenager left in him so as not to wear lip balm in the middle of the Russian winter.

 

Then Yuri’s hands are trailing down to find Otabek’s and he's breaking the kiss.

 

“C’mon,” Yuri mumbles, eyes heavy lidded and clouded with their last kiss as he skates backwards, pulling Otabek along after him.

 

“Where are we going?” Otabek asks as he obediently skates after him, his eyes on Yuri’s lips and his fingers laced through his.

 

“Medical office,” Yuri says, voice slightly slurred by lust.

 

And fuck if he isn't irresistible, isn't making Otabek forget how to think never mind how to skate.

 

They stumble off the ice, mouths finding each other's as their bodies naturally come together, two comets colliding, an undeniable gravitational pull, always, forever.

 

Skates unlaced by clumsy fingers, abandoned by the rink edge. Hands entwined and mouths magnetic, pressed up against the wall. Blonde hair pushed over to one side and pale neck exposed, Otabek’s mouth on Yuri’s pulse point.

 

Yuri’s _gasping_ and god it's so hot, the breathy little whimpers he makes as Otabek pushes his hips forwards into his, pins his wrists against the wall between the stalls, sucks on his neck. Jesus Christ, Otabek can feel him getting hard, and his legs nearly give way at that, at the idea that he can make Yuri Plisetsky hard.

 

He grinds his hips forwards, determined to unravel Yuri completely, make him lose himself, take his walls down, shed his armour.

 

Because Yuri does have armour doesn't he? His scowl is his breastplate and his sharp words are his sword. But Otabek is the only one that gets to see the chinks in his chain mail, the opening under his shield.

 

“Beka…” And fuck it's a _whimper_ , so fucking _desperate_ and needy and just so goddamn irresistible.

 

“Yura,” Otabek growls in response to his own name from his love’s lips. It’s teeth against the blonde’s neck, it's heady, it's claiming, because Yuri is _his_.

 

Yuri whimpers again, the beautiful skin of his throat flushing slightly. And Otabek wants to see that sunset shade on his cheeks, so he leans back to look at him, almost comes undone at the sight of Yuri’s mussed hair, his unfocused eyes, and yes there's that rose pink blush across his nose and cheeks.

 

“Fuck.”

 

The curse is jerked from him, the animal in his chest making itself known as he takes in the full effect he's had on Yuri.

 

“Beka…” Yuri says again, but this time it's weak, a little broken sigh, a plead.

 

And he'd burn the whole world for him, he'd just fucking take it apart if anyone _dared_ to hurt him. Otabek knows this, knows the promises that he is murmuring on Yuri’s neck are true, knows that when he says forever, he means _forever_. How can he promise him anything less?

 

So Otabek peels him from the wall, supports his weight as he takes stumbling steps even though Otabek’s own legs feel weak with the drug of Yuri. And Yuri is trembling as Otabek leads him out into the harshly lit foyer, their mirror twins reflected on the glass of the locked front doors. Up the stairs to the offices, through the door into the medical office, and where the fuck has the bed gone? There used to be a bed in here.

 

“Where’s the bed?” Yuri’s question echoes his own thoughts.

 

“I dunno,” Otabek replies, brow furrowing.

 

The room is dark until Otabek flicks the desk lamp on, and that's much nicer than the soulless halogen lights of the foyer. It's warm, soft yellow and sleepy. Lover’s light.

 

The door clicks shut. Then Otabek remembers. The blankets.

 

He crosses to the cupboard, hating to leave Yuri’s touch, his heat, but needing to make this right for him. He doesn’t have to go without for long though. As he opens the cupboard door, strong, slender arms wrap around his middle. Hot, breathy lips mouth at the crook of his neck.

 

Otabek closes his eyes briefly, having to remind himself what he is doing. Yuri has always been his amnesia.

 

He drags out a few blankets, there in case someone injures themselves badly enough to go into shock. Otabek is just glad he’ll be able to do this right, because he thinks he knows what Yuri wants, thinks he can see it there in his eyes.

 

Otabek turns, blankets in his arms, stealing a kiss on the way past Yuri. Then he lays out the soft, fleecy blankets on the old blue carpet, three in a row, prayer mats on which to worship his Russian reason for living.

 

Then he turns, knelt on the red blanket, and finds Yuri watching him.

 

He's come out of his daze slightly, green eyes dark, hungry, reflecting the honey light as he gazes at Otabek. And he's breathtaking, golden hair swept over in a wave to one side, slender legs clad in leggings, baggy sweater grazing the tops of the thighs that made Otabek want to find religion, because if anything could be so perfect then there _had_ to be a god.

 

Otabek swallows, gathering bravery, swearing fealty. And he holds a hand out to Yuri. And they sink together, Yuri’s hair swirling out behind him as he falls into Otabek's arms, is spun around and pressed into the floor.

 

Hands, hands everywhere, mapping out space, claiming skin, this is mine, this is mine, this is mine. It is a mantra in Otabek’s head, it is a message in Yuri’s fingertips, over and over as their coats are shed, sweaters discarded, pausing at their t-shirts. Mine, mine, mine.

 

Yuri’s lips, Yuri’s goddamn lips. Needy, open, begging, his chin angled up as he tries to get ever closer to Otabek, needs to be closer to Otabek.

 

And then Otabek can taste it, suddenly realises what they are teetering on the edge of, what they are about to plunge into, and he has to make sure Yuri is willing to dive, that he isn't just submitting himself to the drag of the riptide.

 

So Otabek stops, moves back. Both of their chests are rising and falling rapidly. Breath, what is breath when they can claim each other's lips?

 

_What is anything when they can claim each other's lips?_

 

“Yur-a,” Otabek pants breathlessly, swallows, tries again. “Yura, I need to know you really want this. That you're ready.”

 

And the look of confusion bordering on irritation is almost comical. There he is. Whipsnap, sharp as glass.

 

“Beka,” Yuri says patiently, and his irritation shifts to a gentle little smile.

 

He reaches up, traces his fingertips lightly over Otabek's cheekbone, a touch so tender it _hurts_ , the green of his eyes so vivid Otabek can taste the colour as Yuri stares up at him.

 

“I've wanted this for years,” Yuri murmurs, and then he swallows, suddenly sad. “I only wish you'd been my first.”

 

And Otabek’s heart breaks. It had been a drunken mistake on Yuri’s part, a one night stand two years ago with a stranger. It had been totally consensual, but that didn't mean Yuri was happy about it. He'd been so annoyed at himself, Otabek could tell. He'd said it didn't matter, said he never understood the big deal about losing his virginity. But Otabek had seen the sorrow, the regret, and somewhere underneath he'd glimpsed what Yuri had really wanted to say…

 

 _It should have been you_.

 

But of course he'd been a coward, not dared to let himself hope. Because he couldn't stand the thought of losing him. Couldn't stand the thought of confessing and hearing once and for all that there was never any chance his feelings would be reciprocated. He had wanted to keep on dreaming, so he'd stayed quiet.

 

“I'm sorry, Yura,” Otabek says, closing his eyes as he leans into Yuri’s touch. “I've wasted so much time…”

 

“We both have,” Yuri returns, and he smiles as Otabek opens his eyes, encouraging, consoling. “But maybe we needed time. Maybe… maybe if we had done this earlier it wouldn't have worked, maybe now that we’re adults… this could be forever…”

 

And there it is. Otabek feels his face crumble into a smile so happy it looks sad, hears the sob in his throat, feels the tears prick behind his eyes. And he kisses him, he kisses his forever.

 

Then Yuri is tugging at his t-shirt, and Otabek breaks from the kiss to let Yuri pull it off. He goes to lean back down, but a slender hand on his chest stops him. Yuri is staring.

 

His wide eyes drag over Otabek’s bare shoulders, the tanned expanse of chest, the muscle that naturally builds for him in a way it never would for the blonde. Yuri’s bottom lip catches between his teeth as his hand and gaze sinks down to Otabek’s abs, a little crease appearing between his brows as his other hand comes up to trace a line down the hollow of Otabek’s well defined hipbone. A shudder rips through Otabek at this last touch, Yuri's hand finding the hurricane, Yuri's heart finding its home.

 

“Mmpf, Yura,” Otabek groans.

 

Green eyes flick up to his brown, smirk tugging at the corner of that intoxicating mouth.

 

“Oh Beka,” Yuri purrs, and the look he fixes Otabek with has Otabek’s arms shaking. “I knew your body was good, but this…”

 

Yuri flips them, and suddenly Otabek is on his back, breath stolen as Yuri settles over him, drags his lips, teeth, and tongue down Otabek’s chest, sucks on his nipple, kisses at his ribs, nips at his hipbone. And Otabek is lost then. Say goodbye to his sanity, he’s coming unmoored, unstitched from reality, because how could reality be this exquisite? How could reality be this gorgeous, complicated, wonderful man slipping down his workout pants, tossing them aside along with the mismatched socks which he laughs at, a wonderful sound, the best music never written.

 

Then Yuri is settling between his now bare legs and Otabek's aware of how little he's wearing in comparison to Yuri, and he wants to remedy that, but Yuri’s breath is ghosting over his boxer clad cock, and fuck, fuck, _fuck_.

 

Otabek lets a growl rip from his chest as he sits up, pulls a surprised Yuri from between his legs to mash their mouths together. When he moves back to tug Yuri’s t-shirt off Yuri attempts to speak.

 

“I wanted to —”

 

“I know,” Otabek stops him, because hearing him say it would be too much, would probably have Otabek coming right then. “But I want to see you… need to see you… and this is… this is about you.”

 

And then Yuri's shirt is on the floor and fuck he's so beautiful, moonlight pale. Otabek's eyes are dark as he drinks him in, moves to kneel across from him.

 

Slowly, almost lazily even though it is anything but, Otabek lifts a hand and trails his fingertips ever so lightly down Yuri’s chest. Yuri had been about to say something, probably to refute Otabek’s claim that this was all about Yuri, but all he can do is shudder as his eyes slip closed, mouth parting slightly as a shaky little sigh escapes him. Otabek watches the effect of his own touch with burning eyes, marvels at it. How, as his fingers ghost over Yuri’s chest, his breathing hitches. How, when they skim the line down to his belly button, Yuri's head falls back. How, when they trace a path across the skin just above his leggings, Yuri let's out a little whimper.

 

Otabek pushes him lightly back, and Yuri goes down easily, feather on the wind. He lets out a sigh as he hits the floor gently, his hair haloing out around his head. Golden, divine, the only image worth making holy.

 

Leggings peeled off, pale legs exposed. And fuck Otabek would paint a masterpiece of this boy’s body if he could. He’d write a melody, sing a sonnet, draft an ode, because this man, boy, whirlwind, firespark is _everything_.

 

He kisses up the inside of Yuri’s leg, the flesh pebbling in the wake of his lips like water mussed by wind. He nips at the inside of Yuri’s knee, sucks on the flesh of his thigh, and now Yuri’s breathing is really going haywire. The blonde’s hands stutter over Otabek’s shoulders as his breath ghosts over his boxer clad cock, as though Yuri is still testing how much he can touch.

 

Otabek looks up as he slowly drags Yuri’s boxers off, making sure, giving him time. There are no protests. Yuri is long gone.

 

Yuri is already hard from the long build up to this, and hell if they aren’t taking their time for two people who have been waiting for so long. But this is right. This is how it’s supposed to be done.

 

A little lick, a responding shudder. A kiss, an answering moan. And then Otabek’s mouth is sinking down onto Yuri, hand holding the swollen flesh steady as he takes him in. The moan Yuri releases is… There are no words. It’s what Otabek’s been longing to hear.

 

Yuri doesn’t take long to beg, he’s quickly pleading for fingers, for more, more of Otabek, hands now sure as they tug at his hair.

 

“We don’t… we don’t have…” Yuri manages to get out as Otabek releases him.

 

“I have vaseline,” Otabek suggests. “Not quite as good though, so perhaps we should wait.”

 

“No,” Yuri says quickly, looking shocked by the idea. “No.” He says it more calmly the second time. Sure, solid. Otabek smiles softly at him.

 

“We have plenty of time, Yura,” he says, and he loves the way Yuri gives a little shudder when he says his name just so. “I’m not going anywhere.”

 

Yuri smiles, the kind of smile that clearly aches with joy.

 

“I know,” Yuri whispers. “I just want you… now.”

 

And how could Otabek say no to that?

 

“Okay,” he agrees, and turns to his coat, fishing the vaseline out of the pocket.

 

Fingers slicked, knelt between Yuri’s legs, one arm braced, and lastly the kiss, he needs to kiss him. So he does. Long, soft, loving.

 

Then he slips a finger in.

 

“Beka!” Yuri’s cry is wonderful.

 

His fingers dig into Otabek’s shoulders as his head is thrown back. And it’s good. It’s so good as Otabek works one finger into him, then makes him squirm with two, has him cursing with three. He’s begging, beautiful face scrunched up against the pleasure, trying to hold back as he gasps Otabek’s name, pleads. And Otabek’s so close to him, Yuri’s breathy little moans whispering over the skin of his cheeks as Otabek watches.

 

Finally, he removes his fingers, satisfied that Yuri is properly prepared. He leans back and Yuri isn’t coherent enough to help him shed his boxers, so he does that himself. He sees Yuri’s glazed eyes widen in surprise, the shock of Otabek’s size knocking the clouds right from his gaze.

 

“I’ll go slow,” Otabek promises, knowing what Yuri is thinking.

 

Yuri leans up on his elbows, watching as Otabek slicks his generous length up, expression needy. Otabek bites his lips, eyes on the blonde. His shoulders, his hair, his mouth. Stunning.

 

Then Yuri is reaching out to him, and Otabek is crawling back over him, Yuri lying back against the floor. His eyes are wide as they stare up at Otabek. And he thinks he looks so innocent in that moment, so vulnerable, so trusting. So Otabek kisses him.

 

“I love you,” Otabek breathes against his lips, and Yuri swallows, throat clicking with emotion.

 

Then Otabek moves back just enough to watch Yuri’s expression as he slides in. There’s a slight wince, so he stills, biting his lip as his arms shake.

 

You don’t know what you do, Otabek thinks, you have no idea, Yura.

 

But then Yuri’s sighing, his muscles relaxing. He gives Otabek a lazy smile, lopsided with a slow blink. And Otabek almost cries. He pushes further in.

 

“Beka…” It’s a sigh, a whisper, a secret just for them. Yuri’s eyes slip shut.

 

Otabek starts to move, opening Yuri up over and over. And Yuri’s breathing is _wrecked_ , ruined by the pleasurably painful stretch of Otabek inside him. He’s whimpering, his stunning face inches from Otabek’s own as they share oxygen.

 

Would anything be enough after this? Could he spend a moment apart from him after feeling Yuri? The clench of his walls around him, the slight drag of his entrance as he slides out, the tight pressure as he pushes back in.

 

It's shaky, trembling, slightly fumbling as though it is both of their first time. Because maybe it is, at least in all the ways that matter.

 

Yuri opens his eyes, and Otabek let's out a throaty moan at the look he sees in them. He looks at Otabek like he's complete. Like Otabek was the one to slot the final puzzle piece in place. To finish the never ending curiosity that is Yuri.

 

But of course that's not true. Otabek is ever the same but Yuri is a constant paradox of unfinished blueprints. He's the plans for a staircase to the stars, he's the river that flows backwards, he's the beginning and the end.

 

And their bodies glow in the mellow light, a slight sheen of sweat that forms as Otabek sinks repeatedly into Yuri. Again, again, again.

 

Otabek kisses him, because he has to, and that has Yuri moaning loud into his mouth. Where he ends and Yuri begins is no longer important. Yuri is warm skin and breathy gasps beneath him, around him. They're just so _close._

 

So Otabek speeds up slightly, and Yuri let's out a sob. There's tears in his eyes, but Otabek knows it's alright because Yuri’s smiling, his hands cupping Otabek’s face as he stares up at him, whispers things that hint at eternity.

 

Then Yuri's gaze is going distant, his mouth falling slack, his brow furrowing.

 

“Y-yes, yes Beka.”

 

So Otabek gives it to him, pumps his hips forwards repeatedly, makes him writhe, makes him practically scream, unrelenting hand on the back of Yuri’s thigh.

 

“Yuri…”

 

It's a warning.

 

“Beka, Beka I'm so close,” Yuri whimpers, body jerking as he manages to find Otabek’s eyes with his own.

 

And Otabek knows what will do it. Has seen how Yuri reacts. So he pushes his thigh back further before he lets out a low growl of “Yura…”

 

Yuri comes, hard.

 

“Beka!” It's choked.

 

It's cracked. It’s insanity. It’s love. Finally, finally, love.

 

And Otabek falls.

 

He comes with a sob as his head falls forward to press into the crook of Yuri’s neck. He keeps thrusting, body straining, Yuri going loose limbed beneath him as his orgasm takes him apart.

 

Slow. Steady. Stopping.

 

Otabek stays where he is, catching his breath. And then he shifts to kiss Yuri, messy, hot. He moves back to look at his everything, to take in his glazed expression, and that's just the best thing Otabek has ever seen, so stunning Otabek's breath catches in his throat.

 

Yuri blinks a few times, trying to clear the fog in his eyes as Otabek starts to go soft inside him.

 

“Hey you,” Yuri whispers with a lovely little smile, and the boy shines through in that moment, in his carelessness, his walls completely down as he gazes up at Otabek.

 

“Hey,” Otabek only just manages to respond, emotion clogging his throat.

 

“I love you too,” Yuri murmurs, running his fingertips down one side of Otabek’s face, temple to jaw, before coming back up to gently lay his palm against his cheek.

 

Otabek has never understood what people meant when they said they could die happy after something good happens, because who would want to die? But he understands in that moment.

 

Of course he'd much rather live, live by Yuri’s side forever if he'd let him.

 

So he kisses him again. Then slides out.

 

They lie together for a while, Otabek beside Yuri as they play with each other's fingers, draw patterns on each other's skin, stroke each other's hair. And as they get cleaned up it's as though each is addicted to the touch of the other’s skin, always finding an excuse to brush against, feel, share.

 

The looks they share are shy, smiling, blissfully happy. They're teenagers again.

 

When they finally leave the room, collect their things from the locker room, scoop their skates back up, there's an unspoken understanding that they're spending the night together. That they'll probably spend almost every night together from now on. Because it's too good to stop.

  
So Otabek rides home to his apartment on his motorbike, Yuri pressed so close to his back that it feels like he's trying to melt straight through the leather of his jacket. And maybe Yuri understands now that Otabek only moved to St Petersburg for him. And as he watches him take up space in his apartment when they reach it, imprinting the air with his presence in an entirely new context, Otabek is really, truly happy.


	12. Mouthful of More

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My dudes, my guys, the writer's block is real. Sorry this took so long!

_Here’s all the reasons I love you and more._

 

Yuri’s heart aches for him, even when he’s right there beside him.

 

They’re lying on the rug between the two couches. Their lounge is small, the space only for them. Mementos of their time are dotted around the room; a photo of them in Paris, an ornament from Japan. Haven. Home.

 

Otabek is chatting. Easy words and smiles as he plays with Yuri’s fingers.

 

Why they’re on the floor isn’t important after two bottles of wine. The floorboards throw their weight against Yuri’s shoulder as he watches Otabek talk, the Kazakh’s molten eyes trained on the ceiling and his mouth stained red.

 

Yuri’s lips are split in a smile.

 

_Here’s all the things I’d do for you and more._

 

There’s darkness at the windows, snow drifts on the sills, but in here they’ve got their own little summer. Muted light is thrown onto the ceiling from flea market lamps, shadows gathering in the corners. Sleepy. Safe.

 

There’s rhythm in Otabek’s talk, just below the current of his words. As the rug brushes Yuri’s temple and his limbs lay heavy on the floor, he’s so caught up in this dark eyed boy that he’d gladly promise him the world and more. He watches the way his eyes crinkle when he talks about the two of them, how his expression goes a little distant when he's trying to remember a detail. Otabek’s cheeks are dusted pink from the wine. The low lights kiss his skin gold.

 

And maybe they’re abnormal, to be this happy. Because surely it’s meant to fade, surely this heat, this obsession, can’t last forever. But it’s been six years and Yuri’s still drowning in him. Sometimes the heat of it is overwhelming. And when one of them has to go away Yuri thinks he’ll choke on it. Greeting each other with desperate hands, whispered promises to stay, always stay, when they both know there’s the hard edge of contracts that’ll sometimes pull them apart.

 

And all that Otabek has put into this space of theirs. How he built a shelf for Yuri’s silly little trinkets, how he’d hung each frame with care. The little plants that he’d bought and the vases he’d filled with flowers, surprising Yuri with bouquets just because he could.

 

Yuri’s love is memory. It’s the space between his heart and his thoughts, the edge of his sanity and the promise on his lips.

 

He reaches up, cuts Otabek off mid sentence as he draws his face to his. Otabek’s lets out a pleased little mumble as their mouths find each others. Velvet and heat.

 

_Here’s all the ways I die for you and more._

 

Kisses deep as canyons as their lips find home, and their hands find heat and it grows into more. Otabek pulling him closer and each little muffled sigh. Their kisses are sloppy, red wine and teeth.

 

Yuri pulls Otabek on top of him, sighs because Otabek is _heavy_ , perfect. Fingers slip buttons free, Yuri’s hair pooled golden on the floor. And Otabek is grinding his hips down, pulling little breathy gasps from Yuri.

 

Yuri’s head flops back, movements foggy, eyes closed. When Otabek frees him from his jeans he makes a pleading little whine. More, more, more.

 

And when Otabek sheds his own clothes Yuri can’t help but bite his lip, drag his hands over Otabek's chest, let his eyes wander over what belongs to him. Each sharp line is a blessing, honey skin and hard muscle. Otabek pushes his boxers down just enough, then he’s pushed flush against Yuri. Yuri keens.

 

Otabek brushes his lips over his ear, saying his name in that growling murmur, that possessive little “Yura”, making Yuri arch his back, grip his shoulders.

 

“I want…” Yuri says, but he doesn’t know what he wants, doesn’t know anything as Otabek’s length drags against his own, pushes the breath from his lungs and the lucidity from his mind.

 

“I want…” Otabek echoes, his voice a low sigh that makes Yuri tremble against him. “All of you.”

 

And Yuri is crumbling in the most delicious way. He’s whimpering and bucking his hips and making the most pathetic little noises, aborted movements.

 

“I want to open you up,” Otabek says, murmurs those greedy words into Yuri’s ear, grips his ass with one hand as he grinds his hips down.

 

“I want to take you apart,” Otabek continues. “I want to fuck you against the shower wall because I know you like that, and I want to hear my kitten moan.”

 

Yuri’s a mess. One hand is pushed into his already wild hair, the other clinging desperately to Otabek. Head thrown back, eyes blown wide.

 

Otabek pushes his boxers off completely and then lifts Yuri easily. Yuri is pliant in his arms, his breath coming in fluttery little gasps as he wraps his legs around Otabek’s hips, his erection pressed flush between them as he leans his forehead on Otabek’s shoulder.

 

_Here’s all the ways I’m mad for you and more._

 

Otabek sets him down gently on the bath matt. His hand is on Yuri’s hip as he leans into the shower to turn it on. It anchors Yuri, as he sways on the edge of his bliss, eyelids heavy and jaw slack.

 

Otabek turns, catches sight of him, the flush on Yuri’s cheeks, his unfocused gaze. And he gathers him up close to him, his shoulders bunching as he takes Yuri’s face between his palms and tilts his head back.

 

“Yura…”

 

Then Yuri’s being pulled under the spray. Otabek takes his time washing him, drives Yuri to distraction with each lazy swipe of his hands across Yuri’s skin. The blonde can barely focus enough to wash him in return. But he does because he loves the feel of Otabek’s wet skin beneath his hands, hot and hard. Love and promise.

 

The bathroom is filled with the hiss of the water and his little moans as Otabek presses him against the wall.

 

Then Otabek’s turning him around, and Yuri’s face is helplessly pressed against the tiles, brow furrowed, mouth gasping as Otabek slowly sinks to his knees behind him, laying kisses in his wake.

 

_Here’s all the ways I’m made for you and more._

 

The first swipe of Otabek’s tongue has Yuri’s hips jerking forward. He lets out a warped little noise as Otabek holds him still, before he licks again at Yuri’s entrance.

 

Otabek has to grip him hard as Yuri trembles, his body shuddering with each lick, kiss, dip Otabek gives him. Then Otabek stands, his chest is flush against Yuri's back, his teeth ghosting over Yuri’s shoulder as he pushes a finger into him. Otabek has to hold him up.

 

“Beka…” and it's so heavily accented, his tongue thick as he moans the name. “Beka…”

 

“I'm here,” Otabek murmurs, lips brushing his shoulder, jaw slack as he mouths at the skin there.

 

Otabek slides his finger in to the knuckle, twists it. Yuri’s hands scrabble across the tile, mouth open in silent cry, cheek flush against the cool wall.

 

Yuri loses track of things somewhere between the second and third finger. There's hands, and heat, and stars, and tremors, and oh god it's so much, oh god just more, need more, “ _fuck me Beka, just please fuck me Beka_.”

 

Yuri cracks as Otabek slides into him, quiet little whimpers of his lover’s name, “Beka, Beka, Beka,” over and over as Otabek holds him up.

 

Yuri’s collapses against him, his head thrown back on Otabek’s shoulder, his pale neck exposed as he gasps for breath. And Otabek’s fucking him, and it's so good, it's so…

 

Yuri knocks off a couple of bottles as his hand skitters across the metal rack on the wall, scrambling for purchase as Otabek opens him up again and again, his wet body hot against Yuri’s back.

 

“Mmn-Beka…”

 

Yuri’s hand comes up to hold the back of Otabek’s head, Otabek’s face buried into the crook of Yuri’s neck as his powerful hips thrust into him.

 

“I'm so… full…”

 

Otabek let's out a little noise at this, a snarling growl through his clenched teeth. He tightens his arms around Yuri and pounds into him harder. Yuri let's out a cry, high and ringing in the tiled room.

 

His hand slips on the rack. He's completely loose in Otabek’s arms. Otabek is so deep inside him, it's unmooring him, fracturing, falling.

 

_Here’s all the ways I worship you and more._

 

And Yuri clings to this, this completion, this wholeness. Will Otabek ever fully understand the depths of his utter intoxication with him? His perfect madness, his little hysteria.

 

“I love you,” Yuri chokes out. “I love you.”

 

“Yura…”

 

Otabek’s voice is wrecked, so full of emotion and need.

 

“Touch me.” A breathy, whispered demand.

 

Yuri’s moans join the splash of the water, echoing around the room as Otabek’s fist circles him.

 

It only takes a few more thrusts from Otabek for Yuri to tumble.

 

“Beka!”

 

His cry paints the air as his seed paints the wall, his body folding forwards as his muscles go taught.

 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, oh my god, Beka.” It's a whining mess of words that dissolve into Russian as Otabek drives into him, carrying him through his orgasm.

 

Yuri blinks blearily as his climax mellows, overly sensitive and shuddering with aftershocks as Otabek continues to fuck him.

 

He's holding him up, Yuri’s face pressed against the tiles once more as he goes slack.

 

Otabek takes a little longer, finally coming with a groan and a thrust so deep Yuri’s eyes go wide and he lets out a choked groan.

 

Otabek’s heaving breaths are hitching behind him as they both stand there for a moment. Then Otabek pulls out and turns Yuri around. He gathers him close and shifts them to be properly under the spray.

 

“I love you,” he murmurs against Yuri’s forehead, laying kisses there with the words. “I love you, I love you.”

 

They clean themselves with slack hands, Yuri half asleep already. When they finally step out of the shower, Otabek wraps him in a towel and gently dries his hair with another. Otabek chuckles at how sleepy and adorable Yuri looks. Yuri’s chest aches with how much he loves him.

 

Then its teeth brushing and Otabek’s too big t-shirt on Yuri slim frame, sharing the everyday things, the bricks of their life, the simplicity of being together.

 

They climb into bed and Yuri slots into the space made for him, that one under Otabek’s arm, his head on Otabek’s chest. He smiles.

  
_Here’s all the ways you're my forever and more._


End file.
